Jerry Brotherton

The lonesome whistle of a late night train

The sound of bullfrogs or a night owls screech

The melodic drip of a summer rain

These things pull me back to my town asleep

I could count the stars in the sky at night

Without smog or bright lights to drown the view

Bushes covered in fireflies glittered bright

Like golden mounds covered in misty dew

I had so many years of wasted dreams

Of where time did not move at a snail’s pace

I now know the only thing that I need

Is to return to that much simpler place

But my small town has completely vanished

Her quiet streets will never comfort me

My hopes of returning have been banished

All that’s left are this old man’s memories

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