Buck's Writings

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Well, I called it a day
And headed your way, old town.
Things don't seem the same
As I stand in your lanes
And look up and down.

Walking slow in the shade
Where the memories flood,
My eyes sweep the glade
Where she and I laid
On leaves in the woods.

I turn for a glance
Before heading away,
Wondering where she went,
When we last touched and kissed
And love lost the day.

A late Fall wind sighs
And the leaves rattle 'round.
Tears blur my sight
At the strange, faceless crowd
That changed my old town.

It's better not to return
And face the heartburn
Of your thoughts and dreams,
And your hometown hurts.
But I had to learn.