Memory Lane
I walk down memory lane.
It was just as I had left it.
Garbage here and there.
The smell of alchol,
Mixed with the ever slighest bit of rotten garbage.
It was utterly disgusting.
But this is where I had grown up,
On the wrong side of the tracks.
No matter how hard I tried to get away from it,
It followed.
The homeless still sleep behind my old house,
And pick out of the same old garbage can.
The buildings are falling apart,
And the only thing that seems to grow in this area,
Is a few patches of grass, and a few trees.
Nothing about this area is eye appealing,
But this is where I grew up,
And no matter ifI walk by with my nose turned up,
Or my head hung low,
This place will always be a part of me.
Copyright © Cindy Smith | Year Posted 2012
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