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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2192994
Rated: E · Poetry · Travel · #2192994
When I left my family home for the final time after my mother passed away.
The other people there were all like me,
Waiting to grieve or adjure a loved one
Only lost temporarily.
Possibly in reunion of
An ideal day trip to take in the sights,
With all the smiles, hollow chatter, and avid cheer;
Not on any ardent pursuit for those one blights.

My family home recently demolished,
Carrying a suitcase full of memories,
Keepsakes once nobly displayed and finely polished.
Mine to pick from the ruination,
Of a wrecking ball swung by some higher deity,
Set aim on the only family I had left,
As well as that inner man of ardor or any gaiety.

So I sat on this bus,
In wonder of why everyone else looked happy,
While I not willing to depart without a fuss.
Merely afraid to go
Where such strangers about to travel.
Places unfamiliar, too far, or beyond my reach,
A certain locus inside unattainable paved in gravel.

Gone without as much as one, "So long",
Or someone to throw me a Farewell Party.
By myself crumble or find the means to grow strong.
Solely in mind's eye continue returning
To the place I called Home.
A haven much safer than what passed through glass,
And miles suddenly years just simpler to roam.

My great find a sense of self on life's lonely trek,
As some of those strangers, friends and lovers
Overlooked or abandoned in youth's berth left a wreck.
Then, and only then,
Would I ring bell for the one that had driven,
To let me off at next stop;
The respite for which I've striven.








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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2192994