Where are the roads that brought me home
those that turned to muck when it rained?
Where are the fields that let my eyes
see far into the horizon?
Could I be lost? This is not home.
“Progress came,” said the old folks, proud
of their big houses and built-in fields
while new faces goggled at mine.
After a long spell, I am glad to join the Pub party again.
Linking with DVerse Poets’ Pub’s Poetics: of the Road