This poem was inspired by a visit back to my hometown, after at least a decade. Time doesn't stand still anywhere, I guess . .. though sometimes it seems to . .
A Visit Home
old men,
gray specters of the men I once knew,
the one with the oxygen, gave me my first dip of chew,
the old man with the cane,
scared the hell out of me, the night I brought his daughter home,
with the sunrise,
memories flood the brain,
the smiles and sneers.
all the same,
only not nearly as frightening now, as then,
a bunch of old men,
worn and gray.
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