It Was Me
I was driving home the other day,
Down the same old streets like always,
I passed the school, the church, the cemetary,
And I started to think of the old days.
I passed my old best friend's house.
She's now moved away with a child of her own.
I passed the park where I met my friends,
We'd like to play games where we were grown.
I drove up a hill that was bigger when I was 9,
I spent hours on my bike in the heat of July,
My legs were sore, the sun burned my skin,
But when I soared down that hill, I knew I could fly.
I stopped for some gas at the convenient store,
And I saw a father walk in with his kid,
It reminded me of walking in with my dad,
No place had a harder choice than the candy aisle did.
I went home, walking through the same door.
Inside, it was the same, never changing its way,
But everywhere I looked, I saw another person.
It was me, long ago, awaiting for this day.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.