Walking in the old ‘Hood.

Today i walked in the park
just a lark, I strolled past old places
remembering faces and dreams
— my childish schemes
seem petty now, but how
deeply then we lived desire
longings were fire in the heart
back at the start — of our dramas.

Rolling on nostalgic streets
watching magic fleets of memory go by
thinking of when we tried to fly
away in rhymes and wordy dreams
past school times and first chances
breaks as soft as memory seems
to rosy ages all enhanced…

Today i thought
of the confined designs
our parent’s taught
— loving rhymes and moral stories
troubles made for younger worries
for times of writing lines
upon our souls
and so like moles
mama hides in the middle caves
of the raves and rants we think
belong to us alone, Oh No, not so
we turn the page and rage
and later in our age, we drink.