I took a long and hilly road down to memory lane,
The trees concaving in,
Acting like a roof to the animals that scurry by.
Our house hidden back behind the pines and oaks,
That is where I grew,
Where I prospered,
That tiny house is where I learned to love,
Where I learned love,
Doesn’t last.
The pond in the back,
Seemed to croak at night,
The rooster crowing in the morning behind us,
And now I awake with nothing but silence.
I see no roof covering my head when I walk out the door,
Everything has seemed to change,
And driving one last time down that road and onto another,
The trees seemed to wave goodbye.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
I took a long and hilly road down to memory lane,
The trees concaving in,
Acting like a roof to the animals that scurry by.
Our house hidden back behind the pines and oaks,
That is where I grew,
Where I prospered,
That tiny house is where I learned to love,
Where I learned love,
Doesn’t last.
The pond in the back,
Seemed to croak at night,
The rooster crowing in the morning behind us,
And now I awake with nothing but silence.
I see no roof covering my head when I walk out the door,
Everything has seemed to change,
And driving one last time down that road and onto another,
The trees seemed to wave goodbye.
