I am a traveler within the space
familiar to me. The area surrounding,
the region full of what I know best
and how I appear to others and myself.
This land is of my youth; tree swings,
paths toward home and back doors
always unlocked.
Windows blossom with curtains and
flowers pots in need of water. Front porches
wait for days end and conversations.
All around there is an aroma of fresh cut
grass, magnolias and hot road tar.
Roger Singer 