Heart Is Where The Home Is.

Heart Is Where The Home Is.

It's just a golf course now

where our humble

home once squatted,

in the projects

found offensive

by wealthier

neighbors.

That place

where we laughed

and played,

in our youthful

splendor.

Mom's been

separated as well

into two

precious urns

both cherished,

one in California

in a magnificent

marble mausoleum,

and one in my

sister's house nearby.

Dad sits only

miles from me

on the cusp

of death,

a shell of what

he once was,

but I can hear

his oceans of love,

when I draw near

to kiss his cheek.

Occasionally I return,

to the eighth hole,

where memories

were demolished,

to remember

the sights and smells

of a childhood vanished.

Yet I realize as I wander

the acres that went

from ratty shacks

to caddy shacks,

that you can

never truly

go back home....

except in

your heart.

©-2013-Mstthew F. Blowers III