Adieu

Goodbye house where I first learned to talk,

And begged, “Read it one more time, Dad!”

Goodbye school where I learned to read clocks,

And grew every year, just a tad.

 

Oh classic theater, I bid thee farewell!

There inside I watched my first toon.

Heartbreaking fire left you a shell;

Restorations came none too soon.

 

Farewell to summer burning my skin

And freckling up my pale face;

I went to work and held up my chin

While my friends all got on my case.

 

Goodbye to the books that filled a store

In the job I held in regard.

Hard casualties of an e-reader war

My love for you never once marred.

 

So long diner where I met with friends

For talking, or crying, or beers.

Over finding true loves, or true lover’s ends

You stood without judgement for years.

 

So long kind critics of written intent

Who taught me for who or for whom.

Your tore me apart, not without consent,

But to see my talent seeds bloom.

 

This town, the place I learned to mature,

Has left it’s strong mark on my past.

But now I am ready, able, and sure

To embark on my journey at last.

 

I’m venturing out, moving along.

I can’t take it all, more’s the pity.

I hope to succeed, hope I’m not wrong

For heading to a big Windy City*.

 

*While this poem auto-posted, I boarded a plane to Chicago with a one-way ticket in hand. I am attempting to make it in the big city. Should I find a job before my savings runs out, I will become a resident of Illinois. Should I run out of money, I will return to California knowing I gave it my best shot. There may be a few interruptions in my blog posts, but for the most part, I will continue to write as usual; I am after all,  a writer first, a human second. That being said, expect pictures.

 

Moving

I boxed up my things,

just objects I own.

But my heart still clings

to that which is known.

My home has no roots,

I’ve never known peace.

My never stilled boots

don’t seem to grasp “cease”.

I’m tired of moving,

of being shook up.

I’m tired of proving

I’m still just a pup.

I’m still starting out,

that what they all say.

My roots will soon sprout

I’ll see it, someday.

But as of right now

my sorrow is deep.

I’m still forced to bow

to a changing wind’s sweep.

I boxed up my things,

’cause I won’t be here long.

I don’t dream of kings,

Just a place to belong.