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"Goin' Home"

Young boy sits with hands on knees
Watches the cloud of dust signal the approaching car
Steals a glance of the woods
Beyond the back roads of his world
Mail man passes with a wave and grin
And the dust cloud continues from sight

So many choices for such a young mind to consider
Shall I go fishin? Maybe wade the creeks?
Hot day in this cool mountain land called home
Maybe sit beneath the shade tree and dream

What will I be one day?
I'll grow strong like my Father before me
Shall I be a musician?
All my friends would then hear me and say,
Knew he would be a success someday

Boy becomes teen, All grown now
Or so he feels
Checks his face daily for the hopeful arrival of hair
With a whisk of the comb and a smile of self confidence
Steals a glance in the mirror
As he runs to the waiting school bus

Finds the seat next to his new love
My what he would give to hold her hand
Or a kiss on the soft cheek
She reads his mind, Is aware of his thoughts
Flashes that pretty smile, As his heart melts

Teen becomes a man, A career is considered
Such a big world just beyond the front porch
Hits the city with but a pocketful of hope,
And a heart, Full of desire and ambition

Finds himself lonely in a odd way
People all around him, But still somehow alone
Mind struggles for the meaning of this emotion

Days become years, Changes are more subtle
Love blossoms and children are born
With a face like mine with tender lines
Blue eyes meet baby browns
And the eternal bond is formed

Loves are lost or simply move on
It is how it is to be

Looking toward the homeland
One can only go there with the mind
House that was a home is quiet now
The voices from the past are silent
Just the whispering of the wind

He makes his way down that country road
Watches as the cloud of dust signals the approaching car
Boyhood memories are awakened
Get out of the way old man!
The young men shout in passing
Dust settles and all becomes quiet
Old man picks up and pulls the dusty hat to his head
With a smile, The thought enters his mind,
What they do to me
Others shall do to their father one day

With small steps he makes his way onward
He's goin' home
Home is where the heart is
It's a journey all shall make, His time is now
With a whistle of a old song, Feeble voice finds the words
I'm goin' home.

A Poem By The Quiet One
Copyright © 1998 All rights reserved.

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Email: quietone67@yahoo.com