Heartbeat
Been gone more years than I was there.
From this sleepy little town.
Where my childhood memories play hide and seek in my mind.
The creek has forgotten my face.
And climbing tree doesn’t know my touch.
My face marblized with lines.
A few hairs match the drifting snow of winter.
I’ve come home.
Not the warm hearth homecoming,
From a hallmark movie.
But a stranger among strange faces.
New generations, new residents,
Who deserves a friendlier greeting than I.
This journey is for life.
To hear the drum circle beat.
A steady rhythm,
That gives life.
Everything is the same, yet everything is different.
New shops with worn out awning,
Paved road that once were dirt.
The little house which held my wishes and fears,
Now collects dreams of others.
It’s not home.
Home was where dreams were possible,
Energy was flowing out of the garden hose,
And drank all summer.
It’s where your Dad was strong,
And could fix anything.
Mom was your everything.
You were going to be just like her.
That was home.
This is a dark, grey place,
Unfamiliar to your heart.
With memories as your map.
Your school mates are grandparents,
And not enough coffee in the pot,
To share your last 28 years.
Home is where time reminds you,
It never stops.
And your parents got older,
You have gotten wiser,
And you pray the drum beat won’t stop.
Copyright © Eliza Draven | Year Posted 2017
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