Banjo Baby Days
Another poem by TRU Essence
Plucked against the wishes of yesterday’s expectations
Life heads in a direction all its own
We hear random sounds in the distance that resemble the strumming of a favorite tune
Forever resonating beyond the forests filled with numbered memories
Soon to be forgotten
With hands in our cotton-lined pockets
We stroll down the streets where the souls of yesterday rest on the branches of the new developments
Looking over us
Looking out for us
Looking into us
Seeing the things we keep from everyone else
But they see
They see it all
They see the smile on the faces of those of us who hear the familiar melody being strummed perfectly
to the beat of our footsteps and we smile
to the beat of our footsteps and we smile
And they smile
And we all slowly fade away
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