Revisiting
sanctuary of my young adulthood
I weep in front of my former home
a student cottage, a secret life
set in a steep hillside it is still beautiful but empty
and neglected
shake shingles replaced by lincoln log siding
horrible
I walk around and peer into the room where I would study
wall of french doors out onto wooded acres
now a state park
I can hear ghost echos of the dog barking
far up in the woods
come back...
and my infant son warbling as I rocked him with my foot
studying late into the night
great love in that home, great long sleeps and lazy winter storms
as I discovered myself
my sons father would join me at my pleasure
we were not ready yet
still a work in progress
and my son
a child of greatest love
our beginning.
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