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by Thomas K. Hunt

I can smell my youth
As I come down from the hill
With the river in my eyes
This place holds me still

The streets are the same
In this old familiar place
I'm called by name
They still recognize my face

Smiles to the left
Smiles to the right
Happy in the middle
Of old friends tonight

The warmth from the comfort
The chill from the fact
The thrill from of it all
Just to hear welcome back

07/28/2003

Posted on 07/28/2003
Copyright © 2020 Thomas K. Hunt

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