SeptPoWriMo 18

I could remember the first home I left
because it was the first house that I missed
the constant feeling of being bereft
knowing you own only what you resist
how many friends are gone along the way
the paths you didn’t know that you would take
memories are too flexible to stay
in one place long enough for them to make
a journey within not walking distance
roads too easy for you alone to tread
companions they make all the difference
the crumbs you leave become your daily bread
I pick you up each time we cannot meet
the closed circle a new friend may complete

By Joshua Keiter

reader, writer, actor, singer, teacher