I walk a lot in circles and
Wonder at how I got here.
I think back to an innocent time
When all I loved was near.
I wonder, now, what kind of thought
Could cause my clan to wander.
I don't know how we left our home
Which made my heart grow fonder.
And every year, it gets towards fall
And I think of all I miss;
School shoes, pumpkins, fireplace logs,
Mom with hot chocolate and a kiss.
But the autumns I remember
Just don't happen here.
The stale, rank, oppressive air
Is stagnant, hot and queer.
No cool, crisp Autumn evenings
Where walking is a date.
No laughing little children...
Just sounds of fear and hate.
The lightning bugs I used to catch
Are nowhere to be seen.
Palmetto bugs and roaches here
Outnumber everything.
The cycle of the seasons
Made magic out of time.
But the temperature never changes here
Come night or rain or shine.
So I dream of a time that disappeared.
The people and places are withered and sered.
I cannot go back "there" - that place is gone...
I'll have to make new plans, I'll have to press on.
My home will be different - from now and from then.
There will be seasons and LIFE in the wind...
My children will play in the magical air
And know that their home will always be there.
And when they grow up and go on their way
And it's just me and Hubby in our Golden Day,
They'll know that no matter where they may roam
Just where to find us and just where is home.
-Sherry Sherritt 8/20/95