Back on 175

Back on 175Most of us could see the steeple from our yardsOur parents bowled together, or maybe played cardsSt. Anthony’s in Fussville, though names and buildings changedAnd the fields we roamed have been plowed over and rearrangedI remember us looking out in awe,  watching the big earth movers driveWidening Appleton Ave when we were growing up going to school back on 175We skinned knees playing on the blacktop, laughing through the painSat and looked out the window, lamenting recess inside due to rainHad fish fries, smorgasbords, chili dinners; gemütlichkeit created a vibeEveryone pitched in, worked and laughed together back on 175Time seems to drag on as you are a kid in grade schoolCan’t wait to be older, wear jeans and band tees and look coolThen we got there, heard the line how we may never pass this way againDidn’t really sink in for years, but now it stings every time I lose a friendI know we can’t go back, yet there are times in my mind I striveTo take myself back to good old SA, and the days back on 175Tim Windisch