Final Home Poem by Barry Middleton

Final Home



all boys and trees grow old and die
but certain things remain the same
the woods I wandered as a child
where haunted places laid a claim

I hold them like a photograph
each path I charted in my youth
that seemed as precious as desire
with hidden and enduring truth

the creek flowed south until it turned
to ever seek the dying west
I told it though it could not hear
it patiently had done its best

for often I did find a prize
a tree now petrified to stone
that taught me how a dying thing
in time will find its final home

another child explores those woods
and on the breeze there is a ghost
he cannot see me watching him
or know my observation post

still I have never left that place
so he may sense a presence there
and just like me he might yet find
a treasure far beyond compare

Final Home
Monday, June 12, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: life and death,memory
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kumarmani Mahakul 20 June 2017

Marvellous expression with amusing collocation. Thanks for sharing.

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Barry Middleton 20 June 2017

Thank you for reading and commenting. And thank you for the praise.

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