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Updated: 11/12/08
 
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05/15/06
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Virginia, 1950
Roger Belton

I have pleasant memories of my Virginia hometown;
Memories that drift back to me whenever I feel down.
I remember how, to a child, it seemed such a busy place,
With lots of hustle & bustle, now gone without a trace.
I remember how it seemed large and scary to my innocent eyes,
For I lived a sheltered life, with no thoughts of where's or whys.
I never ventured forth into the crowded, boisterous day,
Except in the hands of parents, who always knew the way.
I loved to go downtown with them, either to shop or just "look around",
Experiencing the "feel" and even the "smell" of my unique hometown.
It seemed everyone knew each other, as they passed along the street,
For my parents often stopped to chat, saying "hello" to those we'd meet.
We'd enter lots of stores, where it always appeared to me,
I became the center of attention, standing by my mother's knee.
Everyone seemed pleased to see me there, and mom swelled with pride,
To have her only son standing there with her, close by her side.
I especially loved the Christmas season, the lights, the carols, the cold;
Surely things will never change, even as I begin to grow old.
But, something strange did happen there, as time passed slowly by.
For that town changed, somehow, bringing tears to my aging eye.
It's no longer large and scary as it once appeared to me to be.
It's actually grown smaller...and not nearly so happy and carefree.
The stores where I once delighted to go, my hand clutched in my mother's tight,
Have, for the most part, vanished from view, as if absorbed into the night.
Gone are all the friendly folks who always stopped and talked.
Gone are those familiar landmarks that we saw wherever we walked.
Gone is the sense of wonderment, that filled a child's heart and head.
Gone forever that "perfect time", when there was never a thing to dread.
Alas, it seems that hometowns are no different than the people living there,
They both grow old and change over time, the victims of bleak despair.


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