If I think back far enough,
I can recall
bamboo forests.
And when there was money enough
for the big fireworks on New Year's,
to illuminate those forests.
And if I think hard enough,
I can remember that swing in the front yard.
And swinging - from my father's arms.
And I believe I can recall
coming home to my mother.
Back when she would spend her days
painting and gardening and cooking and baking.
I can still taste the orange Spanish rice.
Sunlight filtered on the hardwood floors and wall paper,
and the cats seemed to appreciate it.
And I remember the tadpole pond,
and Grandma next door.
And I know Halloween was a must.
Have I strayed so far,
that these are now only memories to miss?
Can I revert to my father's arms,
and my mother's song?
What can I do?
I'm stuck in the pattern of growing up.