The home I know
is no longer up the hill
from the lake
and the woods have now
over grown the path
to the lake with ferns and birch
ivy has almost totally reclaimed
the disintegrating wooden beams
that now hardly support the roof
and if you now note a touch
of sadness in my voice
you are quite mistaken
I assure you to the contrary
For my parents never really owned
the three acres though
the registry of deeds makes
other more boastful claims
and they never really sold it
though the county transactions register
also has other presumptive notions
Those woods gave me something
just as it now nourishes the vegetation
over my path to the lake
not a memory but a fabric
an intrinsic part of my being
The home I know is where ever I go!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem