Years Long Past

Years Long Past prose poem

Photo by UWMadArchives

I walk past the old football field, empty, no gladiators, no cheering crowds.
Just echoes of the games once played. Just memories of those standing, watching the turmoil on the field of battle, young warriors in their armor girded for war.
Distant images of time long past. People I once knew, no longer remembering their names. November winds again blowing in my hair, what little I have left. I wonder what paths all those people took? I guess I’ll never know.

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Randall Smith

I like the feelings you have here. I often drive by an old rundown house and wonder who lived there and where they are now.


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