Leaving Home

I'm on top of the hill. Here, above the valley where I left my childhood, I wait for hours turning to the past, and longing for the future.

I turn my head to the woods where all our secrets are. These trees know all the games from hide and seek to spin the bottle, all the stupid truths and dares, all the laughs, the fights and breakups, forgotten friendships, all the lies, the drinks, the smokes, the foolish things, and all the sleepless nights under the stars.

Every trail holds a memory lost in a corner of our hearts, and here, and now, they rush back as I lay down in the warm grass. I just hope these stories will be kept a secret deep inside the forest for us to find again, someday.

I’m pulled back by the noises from the village below the hill. I gaze down at my people, but they won't look up; they're stuck under.

The sun is now gone, the village quiet. On the other side, the crescent moon is shining gold.

Tomorrow will make this place a memory, and anything that’s left of it will forever be my sacred place.

One last look at the moon that’s above me now;

I smile, then walk back home for one last night.