By Donovan Baldwin

I Left my house and walked to the shore,

The white sand laced with seaweed,

And dotted with shells.

Hands in pockets and wind roaring in my ears,

I walked beside the talking water,

Rolling in and rolling out

Talking to me of faraway lands.

I was a boy and only knew of distant places

From books I had read, or from lessons

Taught at school.

Being a boy, all was jumbled up in my head

Treasure Island side by side with

Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Sants and Sinners lived "out there"

Somewhere across that water,

And, despite the efforts of the nuns,

I liked the sinners better,

I thought.

Still do, sometimes.

Out in the bay a sometimes ship

Went by, going somewhere...out there,

and, on weekends, I could see

The white sails of pleasure craft as people enjoyed

A happy life I could only dream of.

Then, one day, I left my house.

I went out there

And met some sinners and some saints

And still like the sinners better,

Generally.

While I was gone

My father left this world,

My mother left the house,

And I lost track of who I was.

Then, one day I came back.

The house was there, but, not my house.

And, I realized with sadness,

I had left my house for the last time.

9/30/2016