Of Winding Roads and Runaways

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


You felt like home. Like 
sweet potato pie 
on a Sunday afternoon. Like
long walks down a
winding country road; like
bare feet on warm asphalt. 
You felt like summer of '99, 
out of reach but
not out of mind. Like the
first time riding a bike, terrifying but
exciting--New
yet familiar.
You felt like 
cartoons 
on a 
Saturday morning. Like 
a fond memory, fading...
fading. Like
a sunset, disappearing 
on the horizon, slowly
but surely slipping
into darkness. Like 
moonrise, motionless and 
watchful. Silent
though beckoning. Here 
and then
not.
You felt like home
reminding me at every turn 
that I must never return. And years hence,
though I've bounded over hill and dale
to escape you, I fight the urge
to look back 
as waves of regret
crash against my ankles
when traipsing along this vast shore
of uncertainty.


Submitted: June 02, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Jennifer Brighton. All rights reserved.

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Comments

AdamCarlton

Maybe this is the poem every guy wishes a girl would write about him.

Wed, June 2nd, 2021 7:34am

Author
Reply

This is such a beautiful comment. Thanks for reading.

Wed, June 2nd, 2021 3:32pm

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