If I Could Go Back

To the four woods of my dear youth, I will look long for the dry leaves on the floorboards. I will stay true to the message that you gave through the living stream; it softly heaves a sigh of guilt, remorse and truth. I still recall the crackling pine beneath the weary feet of mine. So I thought first, I'll return just as I left; broken and made sick by the worlds ways. To the blank page that is close, wise as an old sage. It must reside, to haunt and prick my heart, so woods, return I must. To shaking branch and muddy ground, and hope that here I'll stick around.