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Home Is Where The Start Stopped.

Updated on April 15, 2017
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you can never truly go home again

Home is Where What Started Stopped!

I have known

the solitude of one

in a world of sneers

and castrative glances,

and have longed

for the shelter of two

while in poverty's

grip I lay encamped

in an old car on a

backstreet's dark alley.


It was then that home

meant so much more

to me then simply

where I started.


it was an age of

innocence and awe

that can never be

recaptured and enjoyed

in the same way again.


But like an old record

I still play it again

and again in my mind,

savoring every

well worn groove.


This memory made me

want to go to my kitchen

and dial my old phone number

from back when I was a kid,

and hope that my mom..

long gone now, would answer

with that tinkle of love in her voice and

the giggles of 5 siblings

in the background.


Oh, that we could

call back in time

just to hear once again

those we have lost

to the dust of fate...

but it is late here where I sit

and whoever owns that

space of numbers now

must surely be dreaming

in their bed as well

of a place they

cherished long ago

and should not dare to be

disturbed as much as I am

in the wee hours

when I am no longer wee.


©-Matthew F. Blowers III

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