Lilacs begin to peak their noses out of hiding
“Is the snow gone yet?”
They whisper to each other
My bare feet, not yet prepared
After eight months of cushioning from tundra-equipped boots
Struggle up the treacherous incline of the driveway
sprinkled with stones that were carelessly plastered into the ground.
My fresh feet ache, so I move to the grass
Not yet soft
But just warm enough to be substantially more comfortable
The homemade tree swing that
In an awkward exchange
Was mistaken for a noose
Swings with the breeze, yearning for our childhood to return
My fingertips graze the side of the beat up garage
That was painted some shade that I could never accurately describe
Because it is just that ugly.
I feel the ridges and dents from basketballs and baseballs and punchs thrown
Ebb out from the wood
A breeze sweeps through my hair, brushing it back behind my shoulders
I close my eyes and catch a wiff of my state
You can smell those lakes no matter where you are
Fresh, but not too fresh.
The “ gazebo” (we never really knew what that word meant, anyways)
Sits in the yard, abandoned, asking me to invite friends over
for a Hawaiian themed birthday party
The blue jay that hasn’t forgotten me since our incident in 1997
Perches in her nest in the southeastern corner of the ceiling
And glares at me, reminding me to keep my distance.
I look forward and see our red door, newly painted to cover all of the
Wear and tear.
And I’m home.
“Is the snow gone yet?”
They whisper to each other
hoping the Groundhog didn’t overhear them
Lavender and Ivory swirl along the walls
Of a place that has known more beauty
More sorrow
More tears and more laughter
More beers and memories captured
Than any other place
Lavender and Ivory swirl along the walls
Of a place that has known more beauty
More sorrow
More tears and more laughter
More beers and memories captured
Than any other place
My bare feet, not yet prepared
After eight months of cushioning from tundra-equipped boots
Struggle up the treacherous incline of the driveway
sprinkled with stones that were carelessly plastered into the ground.
My fresh feet ache, so I move to the grass
Not yet soft
But just warm enough to be substantially more comfortable
The homemade tree swing that
In an awkward exchange
Was mistaken for a noose
Swings with the breeze, yearning for our childhood to return
My fingertips graze the side of the beat up garage
That was painted some shade that I could never accurately describe
Because it is just that ugly.
I feel the ridges and dents from basketballs and baseballs and punchs thrown
Ebb out from the wood
A breeze sweeps through my hair, brushing it back behind my shoulders
I close my eyes and catch a wiff of my state
You can smell those lakes no matter where you are
Fresh, but not too fresh.
The “ gazebo” (we never really knew what that word meant, anyways)
Sits in the yard, abandoned, asking me to invite friends over
for a Hawaiian themed birthday party
The blue jay that hasn’t forgotten me since our incident in 1997
Perches in her nest in the southeastern corner of the ceiling
And glares at me, reminding me to keep my distance.
I look forward and see our red door, newly painted to cover all of the
Wear and tear.
And I’m home.