NO LONGER HOME

I walked through the only street in town

Looking into every face I chanced to meet,

Hoping I might find a familiar one.

I dropped into the only general store;

Enjoyed that piece of homemade of fudge.

The old wooden church hung a sign saying

The next services would be in two weeks.

I never found the two-room school.

I hiked out toward Old Gobber’s Knob

To find the patch at the top–a scar–

The hill was stripped, barren of trees.

A local, seeing my distressed face, informed

That the local lumber company promised to replant.

I wondered, would they also restore

Those violets I loved so much

And the wild rose by the small spring?

Will there be butterflies, songbirds

And daffodils to greet the early spring?

Perhaps daisies, bluebells and Indian pinks

Will somehow reappear to adorn the hill.

Sadly, I turned away a tear rolled down.