Bring Me Home
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I'd like to give you an ounce of perfume
that I borrowed from honeysuckle vine.
This scent is old, more lovely, one presumes
than French perfume always made by design.
This scent leads me back to my childhood days,
I hear ringing echoes of our voices,
running barefoot over hidden pathways--
days before we had to make life's choices.
Carefree days of locust blooms, apple pies;
forever friends, we innocently thought.
Never worried past our wondering eyes--
pretending life, chasing dreams sometimes caught.
Come, we'll sit on my childhood backdoor stairs,
search for dreams always in plentiful bloom.
We'll stay only to hear memories' airs.
The ticket's in honeysuckle perfume.
Bring Me Home Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
4th place
(Poem updated 1/18/2022)
Copyright © Ann Peck | Year Posted 2021
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