(no subject)
somebody once read me a line their friend had written,
"it didn't matter if the beer were skunked, just that we were together."
or something along those lines.
the poem was about the summertime,
and being with friends,
and being young.
i went back to visit my parents house a few days ago.
it was a beautiful vacation, if you can call it that.
i drove through streets i grew up on,
into towns i looked for trouble in.
i walked past bars i longed for girls in,
and through fields i lost myself in.
it was all beautiful.
i haven't figured it all out yet,
but within those (barely) two days,
i learned a lot.
my youth, our youth is fleeting.
just two years ago
i found myself on blankets in fields
with pretty girls
underneath a starlit ceiling.
i drive up and down these streets
and see gaping mouths to trails
i used to get lost in
and hide from the world
it was all around me
i made phone calls
looking for kindred spirits
i used to laugh with.
no one would answer
a broken bar stool used to have my name etched underneath
the laughter wafted out the front door
the closest town, i spent a year in
walking home all hours of the night
looking for all those pretty girls
that always seemed to elude me
they still do
ah our forgotten youth
our magical summers
all sprint back to me
i see all these places
and visit all these moments
and try to understand they're gone
my home is so condensed and beautiful
it's hard to let go of something that was shared with so few
but the generations come and go
and so does our youth.
next time i see you
and we watch a game
go for a hike
sit on the porch
grab a bite
don't ask me what i'd like to drink
just know i'm already satisfied.
"it didn't matter if the beer were skunked, just that we were together."
or something along those lines.
the poem was about the summertime,
and being with friends,
and being young.
i went back to visit my parents house a few days ago.
it was a beautiful vacation, if you can call it that.
i drove through streets i grew up on,
into towns i looked for trouble in.
i walked past bars i longed for girls in,
and through fields i lost myself in.
it was all beautiful.
i haven't figured it all out yet,
but within those (barely) two days,
i learned a lot.
my youth, our youth is fleeting.
just two years ago
i found myself on blankets in fields
with pretty girls
underneath a starlit ceiling.
i drive up and down these streets
and see gaping mouths to trails
i used to get lost in
and hide from the world
it was all around me
i made phone calls
looking for kindred spirits
i used to laugh with.
no one would answer
a broken bar stool used to have my name etched underneath
the laughter wafted out the front door
the closest town, i spent a year in
walking home all hours of the night
looking for all those pretty girls
that always seemed to elude me
they still do
ah our forgotten youth
our magical summers
all sprint back to me
i see all these places
and visit all these moments
and try to understand they're gone
my home is so condensed and beautiful
it's hard to let go of something that was shared with so few
but the generations come and go
and so does our youth.
next time i see you
and we watch a game
go for a hike
sit on the porch
grab a bite
don't ask me what i'd like to drink
just know i'm already satisfied.