Twenty Two Years

The smoke smelled like home
like freshly mowed grass but cold
and filled with apples and rain.
Climbing from the chimney, it mingled
with the gold leaves above. It evaporated
and melted into memory. That line
of trees with the black tire swing,
holding a pool of rain water and rotten
gold leaves. It is not swinging, but hanging
in wait, for time to tug at it and let it fly.
The cherry tree with lumpy moles and
the pure white buds in spring. The sidewalk, old
cement squares broken into odd shapes sinking
three inches into the ground from
twenty two years of weight. It’s good that
the sidewalk was never repaired; burying
the steps that were counted every time
they were walked on or jumped on
like hopscotch. That smell is home.

Twenty Two Years

LydBecker05

Raleigh, United States

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

Look at my photograph New York Color and then read this poem, or the other way around…

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.