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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
The little town is eternal or seems so as I come back to trace
my childhood down these sidewalks. Each house holds 
faded memories yet, creeps back into my mind until once 
again I live the mystic solitude of my youth. Those echoes start 
to stir within me. I hear it in the mocking-bird’s song, the musical
notes that my youthful ears must have heard, and still rings in the trees.
From the songs of birds, I start my visit to the past, both joy and pain
Into my youth. On this day a curious man, trying to get close to the 
THROUGH CAUTION TO WIND, of a boy. The boy and his bare feet
with a sling- shot hanging from a back pocket, the love of nature in his
heart and pent up energy busting loose.
I was that boy, roaming the streets and fields beyond. It is that boy that
whispers to me now, creeping up to my ear to let me live it again.
He sings to me in my solitude, a song with a thousand notes, all in 
adventure, it is he that sings to me now. “Do you remember when we 
were we together?”
“Do you remember our good times?”
“We were together then,” he whispered to me.
Yes, I remember, for I treasure every note. 
More than once I trod down these streets and over the railroad tracks,
more than once I felt that hot summer breeze on my face,
more than once I saw that delta moon go down through the trees and
heard the cricket’s call.
He runs ahead of me pointing to the old church that I attended as a boy,
so many years ago. He awakens my own song, a sweet song of 
old friends, some passed. This old church that traced my steps through
Vietnam, bringing me  strength and comfort through the little bulletins
that brought me closer to home, if only for a little while.
The boy wipes a tear from my cheek, for his questions are ill timed,
but I have heard, him.
Now, at this moment, I am back for a thousand echoes are within me, 
never to die. I was that boy and he whispers to me the words to our
song. He calls to me from the shadow of a big oak and from the 
grassy fields with sights and sounds from the past. He blends himself
Into the shadows as I recall the shapes of old buildings and memories
flood my mind, things I nearly forgot. He frolics with me for old times 
until I must leave. Now, as I say “Good-by” I hear him whisper the words
to our song, he whispers his farewell.
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