I used to park my old Mustang next to the huge oak tree. That place I roamed is now so full of memories that plague my mind; they are the good old days and so very rich with memories.
Sometimes, in twilight hours, I can hear the owl outside my window pane;
and is it not that distant call that I had come to love and miss?
But still I hear the children play and as I drift myself to sleep, I smile and say, “a part of me still wanders through the house.