Tuesday, August 25, 2015

The Decay of the Dream



Then



Before parallel parking, before decay and blight a tiny jewel of a town rested atop the bluff that overlooked a majestic river.  There was hope and anticipation as the town’s young grew up with the belief that this place was their oyster and they would launch themselves from here.  Clear skies and bright days hung around their shoulders, and soft, moon filed nights crowned their youthful lives.
There were promises that life was good and the future assured.  



The summer of 1965 awoke
To corn fields and back roads
Of small town USA
It was the last summer of
My youth – my innocence
Spent in those fields and roads
Winding hollows and
Whispering hills
A river’s dance
Flowing placidly along
The banks of small town USA

It was a time of awakening
When those born from the
First wave of returning heroes
To reclaim their homes and family
Those born – baby boomers
And now in the summer of ‘65
They gained their fist right
Of Passage – into a new dawn

The world will long recall
And must remember
That passage of youth
That came with this first wave
I awoke to my passage
Coming from corn fields
And country roads
Awoke to a new dawn
Crackling forth from
Airwaves and college campuses

A summer to never be
Relived or repeated
A time of exploration
In this new dawn’s rights
Of passage
For a generation gone
Mad with the insanity
Of war, of prejudice,
Who held their
Elders accountable
For the sins of
The fathers

A generations whose
Voices rang out over decades
To be remembered
But it was the summer
Of 1965
And we were awakening
In the cornfields and back roads
Of small town USA

PSG
© 06/05/05
 


It was a good time to come of age in this small thriving community along the river that ran through the middle of this country; the mighty Mississippi. 

Today this town still exists but only as a shadow of its former glorious self.




 




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