My father rued the city, and its folk,
with their dirty city streets, and
their flimsy, self-made yokes;
He bade the city farewell, and
took my mom to a town in the country
where each house sported a big lawn
with lots of elbow room;
I was foolish when I was young,
I gave so little of my head,
so much of my tongue;
Hours I passed in blissful harmony
Not knowing I would miss the true serenity
Of life in the country home,
Life in the hills and streams of a county
where most of my memories and dreams live;
Too young, was I, when I was young;
Too young to use much of anything but my tongue;
Though I yearn for it still, i know my strong heart,
and ever strengthening will, will find a way
to maintain all the thrill that a once-too-young boy
used to find life and joy in the hills.
Mark has been writing poetry all his life and decided to reach out to share his words with a broader audience than his family and friends. He has posted many poems under the name “okeypoet” on Instagram and has a small following that is growing.
