In my mind the girl
with the long blonde ponytail
and the loping dog on a leash
is always there jogging past
the classic colonial on the corner
that I saw once at dusk after a funeral
when it was cold but not snowy.
You were eager to show
and tell us what you imagined
your life could be living there,
what would certainly change
what would stay the same.
Unknowing, you
had circled back to the town
your great-great grandfather farmed in
once upon a time
when life was no less risky
and choices laid out plain.
Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2013
From Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine