Backpack

With my backpack I backtrack,

Steady clack clack of sneakers, my keychain hangs jingling.

I flashback to lilacs, hijacking that Kayak,

Ready coat rack is empty, jackets put away for the warm days.

Me with my Kodak, snap snap and we kick back.

That soundtrack on Amtrak, sitting there laid back,

I pack, go, then unpack, as soon as I come back,

Open a paperback, I grabbed off the book rack,

Old photographs found in that worn out knapsack,

Memories we shared outback, in my backyard,

Throwbacks, to setbacks, while sitting on that grass.

I look back, with my backpack on my back, see what I lack.

Saying goodbye to that past, looking forward at long last.

I reach my blacktop, where mom’s car used to back up.

And I open my eyes as I leave the tarmac.