Down by the waterfront,
I feel the leaves red, orange, yellow, green, brown,
Colors I have only seen from far away.
The yellow of trees back home
mixed with red as cherries fresh from the front yard tree
planted by the hands of my sister, my mother, my father, myself.
This place reminds me of home.
How funny it is, that each time I visit down by the waterfront,
the sunshine welcomes me, just as I welcome it from its slumber behind the clouds.
She says hello, and invites me to walk further into the trees.
She tells me to hear the rustling of her wind, the lapping of her lake,
the chirps of her squirrels.
She pokes her rays in as if to hug me like the mother I miss;
a different kind of mother.
Down by the waterfront I am confronted with the wish for going back, while the fallen leaves under my shoes remind me, there is only moving forward.