Can't go back..

CAN’T GO BACK.

They say you can’t go back to your childhood
And most times that’s true it seems.
But, oh the times I’ve returned there
As I travelled back in my dreams.

It all seemed so real, the taste and the sounds.
The smell of woodsmoke in the air.
The clank of the ladle in the old water bucket
Still rings out true and clear.

The radio played there on the shelf
About an old log cabin for sale.
The jokes and the laughter we shared.
I could hear it all quite well.

The taste of peasoup, hot on my tongue
To chase winter’s chill away.
Filling my stomach with delicious dough balls
On a cold winter Saturday.

Going to the show on Saturday night.
A western , or something more scary.
The Monster of the Maze or maybe The Thing
And we’d all run home in a hurry.

We can go back, but we can’t change a thing
And maybe that’s all for the best.
Our minds seem to forget certain things
But grabs and holds on to the rest.

In some small part of our memories
A tender little child still dwells.
A little child with loving, trusting eyes
That’s a part of our memory still.

Lloyd Short
June 29, 2005.