Our town was
A walk around town
Of just plain folks
Down by the railroad tracks
Out on the ranches and arroyos
Or over by the churches and vineyards
Our town felt
Of spinning earth and still, still space
softly sharp grit and squeezable mud between the toes
thrown rock skips and stinging slivers
pebbles ground into knees and hands from a spill
and hot humid nights of freedom
Our town smelt
Like fresh cut hay and sweat cured hide
Sunshine and tar, swimming pools and cricks
Arid wind storms, swirling clouds, and open space
Future possibilities and receding failures
and sudden acrid wet ground
Our town sounded
Like crystal bells and solid brass drums
pounding feet running, spinning tires, and hot rods gunning
eager shouts, off-key voices, and singing birds
quiet relaxation and hurried responsibilities
And sultry promises meant, but seldom fulfilled
Our town seemed
Like adventures and challenges
A wide world of opportunities
The cradle of victory
The safe expansion of our homes
And the launchpad of our dreams
Our town has
Suffered from the passing years
Hardened its heart to expression
Turned its back on compassion
Expanded to the limits of the valley
And become cold and closed, and lost
©2024 copyright, Marty Vandermolen, All Rights Reserved
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