when I was eight, I was really, really cross...

I don't quite understand the meaning to this poem. It seems almost contradictory.. if you, or said subject, ran away from home, it was the end of what road? A literal road? A metaphor? You went back where? It certainly makes you think of what you may mean but you could not come to a valid conclusion when this poem is only three lines, it would be hard to relate to or understand in my opinion.

contradiction is my middle name...
oh no it's not..! :)

it seems
as children
our anger lasted
so briefly....
only to the end
of our security

(or our road...or our predetermined boundaries...something of that sort :) )

Thats's it, Enchantress, everything
was really good, or else everything
was so bleak and desolate...and
everything could change so
quickly..:)

Reminds me of our youngest
who packed up at the age of 4 and
left the property,
semi-turned the corner,
still within sight, yet looking back with longing.
And I went out and took him home.
Was it like that for you? This poem touched me.

as far as I can remember, I was
gone for such a short time that
no one had noticed when I
crept shamefaced back into the
house...I think it was a Sunday &
I knew I was going to be in trouble
at school the next day, but I can't
remember why, now...thanks, Chi..:)

runway home sweethome runAway

as an adventure it was short but
intense...in tents I might have
stayed out longer..:)

This made me think of a time when I ran away from home after my stepfather smacked me.  I was barefoot in the rain on my bicycle.  Then Nana brought me back home.  Nice piece!

we never forget times like that,
do we..? thanks for the read
and the empathy..:)