Thinking Back Home

by B.J. Burgins

Wonder if that swing's still dangling from that tree down there where sister Chantel used to comb our hair wonder if that mahogany tree still standing where I'd sit under when the sun got too hostile. Wonder where crazy Thomas and all them at, been so long since heard from & if they ever left, wonder if they even remember me and that wooden basketball goal with the dirty nets - wonder if that old fence by the hydrant still wired, posted raggedy and dangerous & if the old place still homely occupied by strangers. Maybe I'll return get a chance to see, turn the same ole corners I use to in my short white Protege'.

Thinking Back Home by B.J. Burgins

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