Roger Singer

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.