And the breeze shifts,
the smell of freshly cut grass
and trimmed roses fills the air.

I breathe deeply, high on memories
but short on attention
as the little girl repeats her demand for payment.

“You owe me a dollar for the lemonade, mister.”

The memories dissolve quickly,
leaving me with a drink-filled paper cup
that is now a swimming pool for flies.

She takes the dollar bill from my hand
and places it in the old cigar box,
beaming as she counts her day’s work.

I used to charge a quarter for my lemonade.
I used to mow Dad’s lawn and trim the roses.
I used to live here.


Copyright © 2012 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved


About cjchaffin

Wordsmithing is my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe words and phrases, only to regurgitate them and pray that they are better off than when I first ingested them.
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to hometown

  1. michael says:

    Creating a narrative poem isn’t always easy to do, especially one which plays so wonderfully on sense and emotion. But this is an absolute pleasure to read, and for that I thank you.

    • cjchaffin says:

      thank you michael, that is a wonderful compliment and i’m so very grateful to you for the vote of confidence. i’ve worked hard to creative narratives that aren’t cliche or maudlin, just trying to tell a story without giving away too much…again, thank you for the comment, and take care.

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