Where are you from? is still painful,
Even after so many years,
Bringing back well tended memories,
Along with a flood of tears.
Maps say it is no longer there,
But scholars must be blind,
For it exists vividly still,
In the pages of my mind.
The nurturing hug of a small town
Is one you can not erase.
It's reach is forever deathless,
Sanctuary in that warm & loving place.
Come with me & share a journey,
Perhaps you have not often been,
To all the secret wonderments,
That once we all have seen.
Of course it wasn't always perfect,
Is what you likely think,
But those pages are but a few,
And I'd not waste the ink.
The all knowing neighbour,
Could occsionally cause grief,
But it also kept your world safe,
From things such as a would be thief.
Respect for our surroundings,
And the people that you meet.
Were common threads in all of us,
And practice on the street.
A breakdown on the highway,
Never lasted long,
Always the first to help you,
Was the first car along.
Upon return from a trip south,
The best way for us to tell,
How close we really were to home,
Was the familiar rotten egg smell.
Going downtown to check the mail,
Was in fact a walk of fame,
Given that half the population,
Greeted you by name.
We may not be able to show the world,
Of where we grow up & learn,
But share with others these memories,
And you too shall return.
The water tower will stand,
Forever strong & tall.
And like the people whence it came,
Defying it's imminent fall.
And the mighty Everest,
Will forever dwell,
In the majestic shadow,
Of the mountain we know so well.
These are but a few pages,
Many others yet to see,
Amidst the journey still wan traveller,
To Point, to pit, to rock & tree.
"Would the last person to leave Pine Point
Please turn out the lights?!
Is like opening the refrigerator,
In the dark & snack of night!
Poem By Lori-Lyn Graham - 03/03/02
