revisiting where i grew up,
i walk along a starry beach:
the gulf is gentle, welcoming,
the moon seems within reach --
but childhood is not, i fear.
so often, we remember
the way things felt, not how they were.
and so, this is blue december
i will recall the world that was,
and note, respectfully
that those times were not simple, just
made simple, then
for me
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Tagged: Tags Autobiography Memories Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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