Paternoster: West Coast
I remember this little old general farm store
now with rampant bougainvillea and new red door.
It has been many years that have gone by
preceding its neatly laid paving and painted sky,
when it still carried old brands and signs.
for it’s pioneering character, my heart still pines.
I pause and ponder how life can be,
no longer seeing what I wanted to see.
Where a new year rings the changes,
a new owner comes in and rearranges.
While a small wispy cloud passes over me
a new door opens, and I now have a new key.
Still nostalgia’s blues constrict my throat
as memories flood from that same old boat,
with the sentimental feelings I hold dear
from many redefining winds through the year.
Well I remember, standing at the window
many warm conversations held with you below.
Another cloud passes over and I feel…
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