just a humid summer evening,
where lazing on the porch
turns into an evening car ride.
when grandpa says let's go
just don't tell your parents
as we drive off to the park.
Mittineague Park, West Springfield, MA
the heart of nature
where balancing along the edge of stone bridges
and calling out loud to birds is ok,
when everything was happy.
when picking wildflowers with grandma,
and attempting to learn bird calls with grandpa,
is how i spent my summer days.
but not anymore, oh no.
the old bridge is covered in gang graffiti.
the wildflowers are gone.
and the birds don't sing half as loud.
i can't bring my grandparents back.
i can't go back there and be the same.
but i have the memory,
i have the thoughts
and i can remember
forever.
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