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Poems - Going Back Home

Going Back Home

by NahilaCsemaJ

As I engage the brakes; the car comes to a stop; I turn off the engine.
I open the car door, and my feet begin to walk.
There is a slight spirit in each step.
For the scent of lost joy, once again has been found, with each step, within each block.
A childhood caressed in the willows of Buckeye Street.
The school where I went is now gone.
The asphalt playground has been plagiarized by the grass.
Yet, the grass cannot keep the ghost of children’s voices from dancing within the wind.
My steps become melancholy as I look at the past.
Walking further, I come to familiar houses, with familiar faces, peeking beyond the bedraggled curtains.
The wear shows like that of an old fishing boat; once again going out to fight the sea.
But upon a second glance, I stop, and wafting upon the wind I smell the past as I walk in the present.
I see Kim; I see Buddy; I see Arnold; I see me; I see Buckeye St.
Oh yes I am older, wiser I do not know, yet I have found the past may walk next to the present.
As I engage the brakes; looking out the rearview mirror; I see a little redheaded boy running presently in the past.

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