stomping, back, sizzle, numbers, existence, hello, power, place, single, right, language, muffled
Heading back to my old stomping grounds
take a left at Nostalgia Square
to a time when I had the power, the right,
and took my place without a care.
On a walk down long ago Memory Lane,
counting numbers of friends I have lost
I hear muffled music, feel sizzling sun,
trace an existence I miss so oft.
A quick detour up Puberty Street
not a place I want to relive
say hello to the kids of the neighbourhood
who every single slight would forgive.
In any language, those carefree days
of sunshine, play and fun
are the stomping grounds I’ll remember most
green grass, blue sky, warm sun.