The lonesome whistle of a late night train
The sound of bullfrogs or a night owls screech
The melodic drip of a summer rain
These things pull me back to my town asleep
I could count the stars in the sky at night
Without smog or bright lights to drown the view
Bushes covered in fireflies glittered bright
Like golden mounds covered in misty dew
I had so many years of wasted dreams
Of where time did not move at a snail’s pace
I now know the only thing that I need
Is to return to that much simpler place
But my small town has completely vanished
Her quiet streets will never comfort me
My hopes of returning have been banished
All that’s left are this old man’s memories
Jerry Brotherton 
The beauty and despair of nostalgia. Both so clearly captured in your powerful verses. Thanks for posting, Jerry.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Roland.
LikeLike
Beautiful poem Jerry but oh so sad. I just want to fix it..😊 , but am wise now
and won’t try.
The poem gives such a strong feeling of love for where you were, regrets and now only memories. I am sure you have strength to build new memories and see the stars without city lights.
miriam
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know there were bad things going on. I suppose that my ancient mind blocks them out.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a pleasant memory! And the desperation to go back to simpler times, it’s really a bad one!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know in my mind that the world was just as confused as it is now. I mean we had Nixon, the Vietnam war and terrorism. I guess I was just naïve enough to believe that the future would be a wondrous place.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is a blessing and curse that the more we love, the more pleasant the experience, but ultimately the greater the pain of loss. Memory can be a two edged sword as well. I glad you have good memories of your home town Jerry and grateful to you for sharing them.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Nigel.
LikeLike
Loved your profile. Looking forward to reading more.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for dropping in and commenting. Glad you like what you read. Stop by anytime. I love your site as well.
LikeLike
Thank you, I appreciate that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Btw, my dad grew up in Montana near Bozeman.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful Country. I am a Missouri boy born and raised but transplanted to Montana.
LikeLike
I’ve only been through Missouri on back and forth trips across country.
LikeLiked by 1 person
All of my, and my wife’s, family still live in Missouri.
LikeLike
Aw. :-( We can all relate to this, Jerry. Well expressed and so poignant.
What is that old saying by Thomas Wolfe…”You can’t go home again.”
Thankful for the memories…good and not-so-good ones as those life events and experiences shaped me into who I am today.
(((HUGS))) :-)
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is probably just the romantic in me that wants to see the past as some kind of Nirvana. Or maybe I am just disappointed in the way the future turned out. I still want my flying car they promised me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I understand. I think we all feel the same way. Especially the longer we live. :-)
Yes, we were supposed to be living like The Jetsons by now. ;-) :-D
LikeLiked by 1 person
And sometimes, that’s good enough.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for dropping in. I Appreciate your kind words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure
LikeLiked by 1 person
Jerry! I really loved the wonderful nostalgia and wordplay you used. A wonderfully moving piece.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I thank you kind sir.
LikeLike