Not being here
For a while, I looked
For things familiar
From my past
Like the ducks
Splashing wildly
In the water
the painted turtles
At the pier – And
the lone boat waiting
For someone to get in
Not far off, I visited
The gigantic
Weeping willow
And the fluffy
Burgundy trees
That I can’t name
Perhaps I had
Forgotten just how
Much I missed the
Early morning bird songs
The shimmer on the lake
And the hills with
Hidden snakes that
Held stories that
Were meant to be told.
A Returnee’s Reality
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Sounds like a beautiful place to be! Beaitiful imagery in this poem! A place of serenity I’d like to visit myself!