Mountain climber, walk streets of Boston Far away from your wilderness home Tumbling weary throughout the city So lost and feeling all alone "Where are the tress that are my brothers? Why is the river so dirty here? Why does it matter if my socks are red now? Can't anyone understand the way I feel?" Mountain climber at the Charles bank now Wondering where all of the fish have gone Hit by biking and jogging people Too consumed in their iPod songs "Why these street lamps and the buildings? Why this train in the middle of the road? Is there anyone in this city who understands my troubles? Or will I forever be all alone?" Mountain climber on the T now Given change from a passing bum Gone to seek her fortunes elsewhere For nature isn't so combersome "Goodbye Boston Thanks for showing me The place where I really belong Among the springs of mountain beauty Off to Maine and the birds' sweet songs"
This poem hits me. I grew up in Boston, almost drown in the Charles River, and was tossed off the T a few times. I love the way you expressed your thoughts on the big, unfeeling city, vs. the laid back style of Maine, a place where I spent quite a few summers. Very nice work..............
