Back In The Dark Ages

It always seemed dark in there,
like the light never beat back the shadows
from corners and from under the table.
It was my home for sixteen years,
now torn down, I miss the dark.

Like the light never beat back the shadows,
sometimes I catch myself squinting
at printed words, or watching television.
I don't need bright, harsh reading lamps.
It seems I have adapted to dark.

From corners and from under the table
seep memories of a life in a poor
humble farmhouse where I learned
right and wrong and the values
that make me who I am today.

It was my home for sixteen years.
I long to go back through the thick door
father hand built, past the living room,
into the kitchen where food smells
and mother cooking still live in my mind.

Now torn down, I miss the dark
light and warmth, comfort and misery
that made my life what it is today.
I miss all but the memories
of that beautiful old house.