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ghosts (Backyardia part 2)

Memories keep Haunting me,

and they’re everywhere I look

In the smiling Eyes of photo-graphs,

or pages of a Book.

The Boards or the burbs

and in Manhattan too,

in the crack of ever bat,

or in the Ocean blue.

Nothing’s how it was,

and never will be, I know,

but don’t you just get lonely

For those places we used to go?

When our Neighborhood was immense,

and we’d explore all day,

When Amir just couldn’t jump the fence,

and we had to think of

Something quick to say?

I miss it all,

the backyard dreams,

sun-baked mud

and climbing trees,

grass-stains upon our knees

with no responsibilities,

just summer breeze and Autumn leaves

and July’s at the beach

Where’d it all go, I want to know;

does it still exist?

My brother is a Physicist,

and he tells me time

is relative.

Maybe I can find that happy place

when Portia was still alive,

See Dwight Tooch’s smiling face

as we give each other high-fives.

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About marcofreschi

I live in the Ocean and write poetry View all posts by marcofreschi

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