8/19/12, age 18
At five years old, my hometown seemed like Wonderland,
Countertops that towered over me, the aroma of baked goods
Infiltrating the crowded sidewalks, coercing me to want a taste.
Mothers took their insomniac infants on rides through downtown,
Cooing at them from the driver’s seat to look at the pretty city lights
As they flashed through the windows, distracting them enough to
Calm their tired minds, closing their eyes to the busy world.
I remember painting pictures on the coffee table with its warped top,
But those shades now adorn the faces of those once little girls.
I go back through, thirteen years older now, and the streets,
Though still blanketed with residents, aren’t as bright as they once were.
They seem run down, as if they were almost sad and lonely.
My old house is now new, recreated with a new family’s tastes,
The tree that my grandparents planted many years ago thriving
Next to the fence that never truly separated me from my best friend
As we sat there and imagined lands and people for hours.
The bridge is unfamiliar to me, even though I walked over it time after time,
Gazing up at its sea green rafters piercing towards the creamy clouds.
Photographs in my mind are aging, torn at the edges,
But they remain with their dulling colors once so vibrant,
Like the city lights that once lulled me to sleep.