Childhood’s Loss

Sad, forlorn
white peeling paint
the old farmhouse
stood on the corner
target to many drunks
from a bar further down.
We lost the garage
the day we moved in
drunks car stopped
by barrels of whitewash
and nails
smashed through the back
before the roof collapsed
imprisoning the car.
Dad never said
whether the driver survived.
Drunks usually do.
Our yard collected drunks
as some collect stamps
from exotic places.

Once there were white chickens
in the chicken coup
hiding their pearly eggs
and golden nectar
a white goose
we ate that thanksgiving.

They’re gone now
ripped away
by the nuclear accident
no one remembers.

Twelve foot razor wire
imprisons the wreckage
of childhood memories
blocking all but sight
and endless longing.
It cuts off my past
slices through memories
leaving white scars
that many never heal.
I long to touch physical walls
obtain tactile satisfaction
know that childhood’s memories
were more than dreams
All gone now
like my parents.
Only white misty ghosts remain
haunting the mind’s night.

Life’s a one way trip
colliding with us.
Sober or not
we cannot see around the bend
fenced off
no way to return
Only memories’ faint
faded snapshots remain
black and white
like leaves in winter’s snows
tumble to the floor

P A Garty   Copyright 2012

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