Mountain Home Poem by L. Casey Jr.

The scent of Honeysuckle
In the air.
The green of Summer,
The colors of Autumn,
A frosty morning.
Strange,
The things we remember
As we get older.
Swimming holes,
Winding roads,
Sandstone bluffs.
Treks through the woods,
Lasting for hours.
Only now, as time
Grows shorter,
Do we keep things
In perspective
No bad memories,
As I wander
These places in my mind.
For this is
The place that
Shaped me, made
Me what I am today.
I have to return more
Often these days.
To lift my spirits,
And refresh
My soul.