The things recalled when leaving town
Are mostly little things
The grocerís bill is paid
At the last moment, one runs into a distant acquaintance

What is a town and what is it
That a town leaves to a person
Dusty roads stretching on and on
End up with flat mountains

When leaving town, itís a familiar thing
To leave a woman behind too
You would walk into the groves
Carrying her face with you

And always in the flowing of streams
Something that reminded you of the past
Was it because they were turbid
Or did summer quietly grow old at last

Summers, towns, and women
The acrid taste of leaving love behind you
Something all children
And all poets are living through