I walk through campus
Past students weighted down
With backpacks
Spectacled professors
And their brown leather briefcases
Everyone going where
They need to go.
It's November
And I know
If I could get some distance
From this place
From the autumn wind
The wet leaf smell
The brilliant reds and mustards
The boys playing rugby
On a persistent green field
Against a grey sky
If I could just get some distance
I know I could love it.
Maybe I already do.
Just then
I'm hit
With an image
Of me walking
With two small children
Maybe a girl and a boy.
"This is where Mommy went to school"
I am telling them
"And then worked for so many years.
See this?
This is where I walked every day.
It still looks exactly the same."
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2 comments:
it often looks the same,
but never quite feels that way
when you return.
And that's what I find so hard. I want to get away from this to move on and make a life. I feel like only then can I really appreciate it, but I know when I try to come back to it, it never FEELS the same. It's too late. It's a ghost.
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