Going Home
Heading home is likePlunging into a pool of memoriesThe old photos, the dusty bike,Makes one smile, unwittingly As a child,I bet I was very wildI sat in my crib, laughingParading my toothless grin, flailingChubby arms, spilling food everywhereLike a sprinkler, targets anywhere My first prom is forever framed,In a golden, rosette border, somewhere far awaySparkling…