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.
Copyright ©
Jake A. | Year Posted 2016
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