A drive in miles not so far as the journey through time,

This trip I took with a friend, to Yorba Linda on a hot humid day.

Down the road, a boulevard with the same name as a city once lived,

Around the corner, closer a school where ghosts of friends now walk.

The gates were open, emotions filled the soul of a man for another moment a boy,

We walked the grounds where friends no longer speak or laugh, quiet all around.

Down the street and around another corner, Amberdale to Fernglen Drive, back home,

Out from the car, we step, hot and humid but here we stand in front of our childhood.

As the years pass it’s a little hard to recall who lived in what house, so many friends,

Staring at my old house as a picture is taken, seen from my eyes is a family inside, no more mine.

Bryan Martin’s house, my old friend, a friend far from there as I stare and freeze a thought, a picture,

A house from nineteen seventy two, I remember you, the things we would do.

I stood there in spots where once my feet walked, the face of a house where a family

Forty years gone, the Darcy’s, a friend standing by my side who also once lived inside.

Up and down many streets where young girls and boys once played and dreamed.

Above it all, over a hill, we traveled closer to a playground, a school where children

Once upon a time sat in classrooms to learn and listen about the world we would see.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s