I walk down the small path <br />bordered either side by bluebells. <br />As I walk down the path <br />which I have done hundreds of times before. <br />There is a stirring in the trees, <br />which prompts my memories, <br />of faces that have come and gone <br />over the passing years. <br />Also comes back the laughter <br />that never seems to subside <br />and all the jokes <br />we’ve played on one another. <br />I smiled as I stopped for a moment <br />to look around at everything there. <br />It seems like only yesterday <br />that I came along here, <br />but in reality, the years have flown by. <br />Some faces I remember <br />will never be coming back to visit, <br />while the others I might see someday. <br />Even when the sad day comes <br />when I can’t come anymore. <br />I will leave with many photographs <br />in my memory store. <br />A few more steps I take <br />and the town comes into view <br />along with friendly faces <br />on the boardwalks there. <br />There are a few whose names I forget, <br />but the faces I know so well <br />in this little town <br />I call my home away from home. <br /> <br />15 February 2008<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/home-away-from-home-2/
