Going Back Home
Going Back Home
They say that you can never go home,
No matter how long you did roam.
There’s no way things will be the same,
Having been gone so long, you must take the blame.
The old statue of the Civil War is gone,
As you look down Main Street, it looks cold and alone.
The statue has been shifted and moved about,
It sits now on the school campus, off the main route.
Where are all the people I once knew?
Are they in another city alone and blue?
We must make an effort to come home once more,
To visit and be among the people we love and adore.
A few have been faithful to our home town,
They remained here long after the cap and gown.
Listen quietly, there’s a voice from the past,
Hauntingly asking, “Are you coming home at Last?”
The old town clock on Main Street still stands,
Watch closely, you can see the movement of its hands.
“Yes, you can come home,” the hands seem to be telling me,
Once you get home, your heart will be free.
© Lynn B. Glover
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