Old Flake Road

A poem about my youth in rural Alabama

Old Flake Road:

(A place within me past) "The memory of a huge pot boiling moms spaghetti. The smell of smoke and red clay under Alabama summer."

Estranged dreams left somewhere down old logging roads under a humid sun where burn lines run through the pines.

To week and distant never making it past the youth who dreamt them.

It’s where they lay.

left with rattle snakes and old vodka bottles half buried in the dirt almost boiling in August.

As thin as the heat that rises from tar pebble roads laid by men under the Eisenhower highway act of 1956.

I out grew them or they died when I stopped believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

Fond memories of a twinty-two and squirrels, catching cat fish at a pond that said no fishing.

Momma’s calling time to go home.

Reincarnate me.

let me play in the sun.

I want to relive the memories.

Hold me close again dear mother || I miss you’re smile.

I miss the days and nights spent upon you’re lap.

Rock me to sleep and I will dream of pirate treasure and let you pretend to be a monster who’s trying to eat me!

That’s the heaven I want.

Simple wishes with naps by the tv.

Plastic army men and a blanket fort.

Author's Note

Old Flake Road is a dirt road at the end of the subdivision I grew up in. Logging roads around the area are a common thing.

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Wonderful random memories all jumbled up I love this
Enjoyed it