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Nov 2014
I walk through these autumn streets, Brooklyn in November.
I walk listening to Dylan, trying not to remember...the spring, the summer...

As the previous winter thawed and the leaves began to bud,
There was this lonely kid who walked alone...
Walked through those Brooklyn streets listening to Dylan, trying to remember what it was that he was hoping for, waiting for...

As the Spring breeze began to blow, the rain began to fall and the flowers began to grow and the kid felt 9 feet tall.
The dreams of summer, the afternoon slumbers and the allnighters spent with my brothers.
Unexpected, unprotected by armor - no memories yet, just dreams, hopes and embryonic ideas of what lay ahead. Possibilities unlimited.
Blue eyes...all it took were her blue eyes...
Summer flew on by - long walks on beaches, sunrises and sunsets, holding hands...babies crying...August and the end of summer racing in the street towards you...towards me.
September - still hot but not as strong - you walk, and walk alone.

I walk alone through these Brooklyn streets, listening to Dylan, Van Morrison and Nick Cave - remembering but forgetting to ignore her tears, her lies and her blue eyes.
October - hurricane winds blow down the leaves across the sidewalks, the streets and upon the highways where we once drove like the boys of summer standing boldly in the sun - where has the time gone?
Where has the time gone?

I walk through these autumn streets, Brooklyn in November.
I walk listening to Dylan, trying not to remember...the spring, the summer...
Freddy S Zalta
Written by
Freddy S Zalta  New York City
(New York City)   
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