Late Night Drive

Late night drive to my old house. The place I grew up. It makes me feel weaker. Everything seemed a little easier then, and smaller. They've put lace curtains up in my room. It doesn't suit it. The cherry tree is ripe. The familiar pulpy mess is scattered everywhere. I wonder if the raspberry and blackberry bushes are still in the back. I know they have cut the old oak down. I always go here when I don't feel right. It settles me, reminds me how far I've come.