deepthoughts

Memories #1

I am eleven. 

My father snaps the latch

of the trailer closed.

Six pairs of shoes 

clomp down the stairs.

My mother pulls the key 

out of the door for the last time.

 

We all take one last

look around. 

The tall majestic mountains, 

the trees fading 

orange, red, yellow.

The mid-morning sunlight

shining brightly down.

 

The last car door 

slams shut.

The blue Ford truck

pulling trailer behind.

Pulling out of the driveway

for the last time.