I sometimes wander past the house where we used to live.

I park across the road and contemplate

the things we used to do.

As much as I stare I cannot see within

and even if I could

I’d only see the strangers who occupy our house.

I wonder if deep into the night

our voices from years ago

Might penetrate the years

and our echo may softly rebound

Across the walls we used...

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In that place

The summers were always hot and the skies completely blue.

And in that place

Where nothing ever hurt me

A lie was never spoken; it was all completely true

In that place

When the morning sun spilled into my room and woke me

Then I’d be up and out and riding my bike

And in that place

The place where I’d be the fastest biker ever

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