Linda Imbler writes

A Train To Somewhere

I remember my grandparent’s enclosed porch,

their Boston Terriers nipping at my heels

as I entered the yard.

I enjoyed the reminiscences,

repeated at each visit.

I reveled in the laughter that ensued 

as each anecdote about my childhood was concluded.

The story I remember most today

is the one about my lone field trip,

at the age of three,

to the neighborhood railroad tracks.

Little me, found by frantic people 

and returned home safely.

In later years, my grandmother,

Alzheimer ridden,

was found wandering 

those same railroad tracks

by equally frantic people.

I’ve wondered since

if we were looking for the same thing.

Hard Decision -- Dragica Micki Fortuna