The father I go
Lines mark my time

Trees whisper their
Goodbyes

It feels like a vacation
Like a dream
While you awaken

Foot taps anxiously
To an unknown beat

Stare out the window
Making wishes on clouds

Knowing
Its just beginning

How can I call it home
When I get lost every turn

When I don't see the land
Which shaped me
Like my mother’s
Loving hands

When people talk
I just hear sound
Not melody

Like I did
Nestled in my
Old apple town

I see a blank page
Craving
To be filled

Memories to be made
New places to discover
Friends to be had

Its time to put
My old book on the self

Take out a pen
And re- write myself


Copyright©2015 Kelly Chase
All Rights Reserved