To Village Lane

I’m sorry I would’ve relished in your safety

during my days of youth,

if not for my parents pushing me out saying,

be free!

I’m sorry I then left shouting Freedom!along the way,

all the way, in the agitating valley girl’s

Oh my god!tone, before noticing your absence:

not a rotunda or a circle, a village.

I’m sorry I kept calling you

a street & I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you.

I’m sorry, village, for leaving you to the neighbors,

the tight dingy school apartments were nothing

like your spacious sun-filled road or your trees

that seemed tall enough to touch the sun.

I’m sorry you were not secluded, & disturbed

by the ruckus of construction for new buildings.

After living away from you, I’m sorry that I

Didn’t always want to come back.

Your grassy aromas, views, sunshine, & people,

inconsiderate people who, I’m sorry, litter

on your beautiful ground. I’m sorry that

even on beautiful summer days, you

are hidden and your sights unseen

to alien eyes – the trees and the sun kissing

them.

& though it is true, I feel I have abandoned you, & I’m sorry for

leaving like I did, it’s just that you somehow

represented all that was holding me back,

you were my childhood

with your basketball hoops in the street,

& your barking dogs roaming freely.

You were like a playground filled with everything I

needed. (I’m sorry, later I realized I played with your trees

too roughly & now many of them are gone,

killed.) I’m sorry, I meant to come back

to you, your safety, & and I will, I promise,

but I must grow up – I knew I would

leave, just not when, or like this. I didn’t

mean to stay away for so long & leave you

withering without me. But didn’t I have to leave

the village? Wasn’t that the way, the only way?