On My Way Home

On my way home

Somethings never get old .

The sun still comes out

Of the trees .

When I go to the city park .

There is still a slow rowing hill .

The memories there never leave me  

On my way home 

I make sure I look down

The side streets to see

If there is something to eat off the trees  !.

On my way home 

I can even cut corners

Before the 12 o'clock whistle 

Before I need to get home .

                     By Brock