Saturday, September 3, 2011

Memories of Old

I knew exactly where to turn
onto my little street by the brook
as I watched the children pedal
on by sitting on bright colored bikes
and gazed aloof at the sky
when red balloons took to the clouds.

I could hear the flood creak
when I crept in just after curfew
and as my father waited in his chair,
an admiral sergeant watching his platoon,
as I was slapped down with a grounding.

I remember the goodbye
as I played human Tetris with the car,
stuffing each nook and cranny with books
and sheets and everything obviously necessary
for a first year at college.

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