Keep Moving

It’s too late to live on the farm

It’s too late to go back home

Some called it a farm

I never did. It was just home

And there were chickens and sometimes ducks

A big garden to the side and a pear tree out back

I visited it and they were all gone and the space was small

When I lived there I was small and it was very big

Was it a farm? Do chickens and ducks and a garden make a farm?

Or was it a ruse?

But it’s too late to return

Even if these feet never move

I still can go forward.

About Mary (tqhousecat)

I am a wife and a mother of two grown children. I love Jesus and sharing my faith through written words. I currently have a poetry blog and also write on medium.com. My main focus is hope in Christ. I only wish that whoever reads this will be blessed, inspired and occasionally amused.
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