More than forty years ago out there among some hills sat a town.

Already quite old but new to another generation brought together.

It was a place where as kids we could run in the fields, explore the hills.

I remember an old stagecoach laid over in a ditch, why was it there.

Those hills were beautiful and a great place for many adventures I recall.

Now most of them are gone or disappearing with years of man’s destruction.

I will say that I have walked or passed through every street in my time there.

The old neighborhood is now much older as I have walked where once walked,

stood in spots whereas a boy once stood, shadows are now larger from trees

that was so many years ago young and now much bigger and older I see.

Watching streets form that was not there, houses rising from the ground

that never were there, now more than forty years have passed as they have aged.

Ghostly images remain of friends who did ride skateboards, talk at school,

Hang out at a doughnut shop that has vanished just as those special friends have

wandered into the future where today they rest scattered across many lands.

I remember when streets didn’t go through, when Boone’s Farm wine was cool.

7- Eleven, triple scoop for fifteen cents and pinball machines, streets of Yorba

were indeed a dream, the old neighborhood and all of you from back then.

If you’re still out there, somewhere around, let your voice be heard,

make a sound, the old neighborhood, my thoughts from a kid in a Yorba Linda town.

Keith Garrett



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