​The heart yearns for the simpler time.
An era where a smile between two
while walking, holding hands was love.
 
Words and thoughts have complicated
so much in each other's minds.
Over thinking actions by each other.
When during a simpler time.
what you did is what you meant.
 
Relationships are constantly questioned.
Mistrust seems to be the main feeling
due to people of the past with bad intentions.
There was a time when motives were transparent.
Those were the days of simpler times
when a hand was given for help.
 
The world is stressed and broken.
Air is full of anger and pretend
there was a time when
this did not exist or thought of.
A smile was natural and not forced.
That was a simpler time,
A time we all dream of.
 
January 9, 2020
© Andrew Scott - Just A Maritime Boy 2020
 

​My memories of him are divided
between the person here and now
from the way that he was before.
The multi-faces and lives of Little Ronnie.
 
Little Ronnie could light up the sky
with youthful curiosity
marked with a mischievous smile.
No rock would be unturned
to see what was there
and what would happen
when the unknown was felt.
 
Little Ronnie’s parents
would show up to everything
even when he did not
wish for them to be there
or when Little Ronnie
did not want to be there himself.
Support was always there.
 
Little Ronnie never went without.
He had a little of everything
however he had to earn it.
His parents saw to that
but Little Ronnie was the coolest.
 
Little Ronnie was the master
at keeping the attention
while he was either quiet
or plotting the irrational.
Any personally could appear
at any given trigger.
 
Little Ronnie was blessed
with a great work life
after college.
Getting the first opportunity
that seemed to be handed
to his open arms.
The envy of us all.
 
I went away for awhile.
What I saw when I came back.
The mind cannot register.
The eyes do not believe.
 
Little Ronnie was a shell
of the person I used to know.
The pristine hair, now long
to go with a patchy beard.
 
Little Ronnie
did still dress
with the latest fashions.
So crisp and clean
to cover the skeleton
that was underneath.
So very thin.
 
At twenty-sex, Little Ronnie
was living at home.
Know the plan was to live
with his high school sweetheart.
Heard she was nowhere to be found.
Rumour was his hyper behaviour
got worse and she got scared
then found him with two others.
A couple who wanted fun.
She was done at the sight.
 
With his lady gone
no one could or would
help with controlling his money.
Little Ronnie went through it
as fast as he earned it.
The finest clothes
and the cheapest street drugs.
 
It got worse for Little Ronnie
after an emotional outburst
at his workplace.
Another gentleman met his
hidden strength and wrath.
 
Without a job, the small place
where Little Ronnie did live
licked him out.
The whispers was that
the little apartment took
two months to fully fix.
Broken walls, soiled carpets.
 
Little Ronnie;s childhood home
was the only place that
would take him with the erractic mind.
The hope was to get him
back onto the proper drugs
to calm his mind and body.
 
Little Ronnie’s mother fought
everyday to bring him back
to be the boy we all knew.
 
We all wanted the old
Little Ronnie back with us
and still do.
The difference is shocking.
Sad as it may never happen
as you periodically saw
the mischievous smile
of Little Ronnie.
 
July 26, 2020
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2020

​Cannot remember when I first heard it.
Do know I was young at the time.
That old train whistle and its allure.
 
Home was not the best for me.
Rules I was not prepared to follow.
One morning packed a knapsack
before dawn started walking the rails.
Found a still train and joined the cargo.
 
At every stop, jumped to another boxcar,
never really knowing what direction
that the old train would go.
Happy to see the landscape.
Take in the beautiful of all terrains.
 
The people I have met
have always been so nice.
Fellow train-hoppers like me.
They were looking for missed adventure
or running away or both.
Stories were freely shared
as the land went by.
 
Sometimes late at night
I wonder about the family
that I left behind.
Think to myself
if I turned out
the way my mother thought I would
or my glaring absence
frightened my father like I used too.
They have not heard of me
since I left them a note.
 
As time has gone by
there are not as many trains to ride
however I can always find one.
The people you see are less and less.
The rail-runners are a dying breed.
Have accepted my day will end out here.
I have lived how I wanted too.
Until that day
will go wherever the train whistle blows.
 
August 22, 2020
© Andrew Scott – Just A Maritime Boy 2020