Apart From Worldly Things

Childhood's World

In my home town, where I was born,
the same house stands, its shutters worn.
The barn behind has been torn down.
The yard is small. I could have sworn
that creaky old porch wrapped around
where I was born, in my home town.

I walked my street among the trees.
I once played in the shade of these
huge chestnuts in the summer's heat.
They're mostly gone now with the breeze
that carried cheerful birdsong sweet
among the trees. I walked my street.

I didn't know the neighborhood.
It looked so strange. I thought I would
remember how we used to go
and where the corner mailbox stood,
where we made angels in the snow...
the neighborhood I didn't know.

Of childhood's world, like in a dream,
there's little left, as it would seem.
Days of my youth were snatched and hurled
through time as in a whirlwind stream.
And all I knew has flown and swirled
like in a dream of childhood's world.

[this form is one of my own creation. it's called a Sparrowlet]