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Gone Like That
Four years in the rearview mirror:
The summer smell of Boston, its people, its places
The frostbite of January chewing at uncovered skin
The never-ending drizzle of Spring
The all-day evening feel of Fall in all her colors
Springs, winters, leaves of green to gold- left behind
Now bathing in that late summer New England breeze
Windows wide open,
Watching them close with each fading ray of warmth
A life built, a comfy place made;
Now condensed into brown boxes
Leaving a place the same is never possible
Something changes, grows, dies, fades, renews
That nail left in the wall is a nail left in my soul
Someone different will use it, remove it, paint over it
But in the end, it was there.
