The steep drive way would
dead end at a cornfield.
Mom would hold my bike
and let me go.
That’s where I learned
to ride a bike.
The front door was at
ground level but the
back porch was three
stories high.
West Virginia was
like that.
I would stand on the
porch overlooking the
cornfield, twisting my
head lost in the moon.
That’s where I learned
to dream.
I still look at the moon;
none of the dreams
came true.
Author notes
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Comments
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Excellent take on the prompt! I think as children our expectations of life are impossibly high, meaning few of our dreams come true. I do hope some did! You certainly took me back a few years
Superbly penned, good luck 
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Brought back childhood memories of my own trying to learn to ride a bike, living in a small country town...
The descriptions here make the reader think about their own past, things that vividly stand out in the mind.
"lost in moon" I think that's a wonderful description of the dreams we have.
And that ending is so sad
I hope some dreams came true... sigh... I know the feeling of unlived dreams well..
A glimpse into the man. Loved reading this!
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I enjoyed this. It took me to a place I've not visited. You take your readers on a mental voyage here. You also share pieces of your vulnerable past.
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