Crowns of Laurel

I come from a time of slow pretenders
When the cul-de-sac was a gathering ground.
The style, the unsung glamour -
I thought the nineties vibe would last forever,
But all I knew is that I was loved.

Back then, I was an extrovert, an explorer.
I'd be the first female something, one who sought out adventure.
“Someday,” I promised myself, “Someday I'll explore the forest.
I want to find the deer that leave tracks in my snow
Only to vanish away, like the shadow of a ghost.”

So I visited my old house the other day.
I'm an eighteen year old man now,
And the trees behind the grass are gone.
So is my optimism. So is the love and I'm jealous.
The unborn fawns won't know what they missed.