Rue to the countryside

Where childhood memories washed away with the rain that uprooted the flowers we planted as children

The home with weathered walls, a telltale sign of the dirt I once knew

Is torn down now, never again to house the young happiness I hold dear

The wren I once loved, mothered and held

Has chicks of its own, to lose in the storm to another little girl wishing to grow up too soon

Here’s a secret she will never tell her wren:

she wants to prove she can be just like the mother who no longer remains

The trees, once filled with scuff marks of my father’s sneakers, as he held me in his left arm, using his right to pull us to the top, are older and wiser now

Having seen the generations pass and the inhabitants grow up

Rue to the countryside

Where I loved and breathed as easy as I fell asleep at night,

Listening to the crickets sing their sweet melody, a gift to the world they knew so well

The old swamp-ground where I used to play is clean and perfectly blue now,

Not the waters I adored as a child, unrecognizable in their charm

I spent so many nights

Dreaming of the life I’d have when I was old and grown

And now in the cold light of my city apartment

I dream of the wooden floors and the earthy smell

Of my childhood home