I remember the view from the trees<\/p>\n
The sound of the falls calling softly to me<\/p>\n
They asked if I could hear myself<\/p>\n
In the gentle breeze<\/p>\n
If I would chance the towering branches <\/p>\n
Long enough to glimpse the world <\/p>\n
That belonged to me<\/p>\n
There is no escape here<\/p>\n
No cover of pines to disguise my fear<\/p>\n
No shelter in this city<\/p>\n
Its meadows are bare<\/p>\n
There’s no adventure <\/p>\n
No straying down dark paths<\/p>\n
Where anything could reside<\/p>\n
Where few would venture<\/p>\n
There is no place to hide<\/p>\n
The city swirls around me <\/p>\n
Noises I don’t recognize <\/p>\n
Bounce from here to there<\/p>\n
My sense of direction in decline<\/p>\n
Change is all for the better<\/p>\n
But I miss the comfort <\/p>\n
Of warm sweaters around the fires <\/p>\n
That we used to build in secret places<\/p>\n
They would always take us away for a while<\/p>\n
To a realm of second chances<\/p>\n
Do you remember? <\/p>\n
The stars and how bright <\/p>\n
They were that night<\/p>\n
When we sat on the river <\/p>\n
Giving thoughts to what might really matter<\/p>\n
In a far off future;<\/p>\n
Remember when we all knew each other? <\/p>\n
All the times we prayed to get away from that place <\/p>\n
Because what we were really afraid of <\/p>\n
Was our desire to stay?<\/p>\n
Just to stay around the town we called home<\/p>\n
Afraid that we weren’t ashamed enough<\/p>\n
Of the place that we came from<\/p>\n
And we complained that we didn’t see the sun enough<\/p>\n
So we had to leave<\/p>\n
Because no one gets famous<\/p>\n
Under the cover of trees <\/p>\n
Nobody could find happiness in old houses<\/p>\n
And who can see beauty in a town <\/p>\n
Drowned eight feet deep<\/p>\n
Home to me will always be<\/p>\n
The sound of trees<\/p>\n
Swaying in a gentle breeze <\/p>\n
Accompanied by a stream<\/p>\n
That leads to a bridge over the water<\/p>\n
And as the night grows dimmer<\/p>\n
You might just get to see<\/p>\n
The lights on the river<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I remember the view from the trees The sound of the falls calling softly to me They asked if I could hear myself In the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":56790,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-56789","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-editorial"],"yoast_head":"\n