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                     Today I was driven

                     -by chance-

                     through my old neighborhood.

                     I'd almost missed it,

                     for I'd been overcome

                     by the misery

                     of my thoughts.



                     But then I blinked, and

                     remembered

                     The peace of that place,

                     and the beauty

                     still retained.



                     Seems god-awful now,

                     how much I'd complained.



                     My heart took a skip.

                     My soul kept a tear

                     from my eye.

                  

                     -I'd even missed the trees-



                     I longed to stop and

                     let my fingertips come out  to play;

                     just let them run

                     up and down the bark,

                     for awhile.



                     I inhaled the

                     impressions left behind

                     by autumn leaves

                     and children,

                     now etched in sidewalks

                     buried,

                     by three seasons of

                     ice.

                

                    I'd almost told the driver

                    to let me off.

                    I wanted to walk

                    again

                    the trek I'd taken

                    nearly every day.



                    But all this

                    had been torn

                    from me.

                      

                    

                 - I've never been whole,

                  since then-



                   This prior life

                    is now a down.

                    when I'm broken,

                    cold,

                    I wrap it tight around.



                    Should I have listened

                    to the reason

                    that was handed to me?



                    Yes, those would-haves,

                    could haves,

                    should haves;

                    -they do get to me-



                    But now nostalgia's at its end;

                     time now to move on.



                     So I let a final glance,

                     made small talk with the driver,

                     as we drove away

                     in another direction.



                     Fran Hinkle

                     04/06/06