The Old Home Place (kikôbun/haibun)

The old home place was long gone now. Still, I liked to visit where it once stood when I was in the area. Grandma’s roses once led down the gravel walkway, a lush green hedge from spring through fall, bursting with pink petals intermittently as they bloomed. Overgrown now, the roses strangled by weeds and vines, the pathway would be indistinguishable to anyone not knowing to look for it. The sweet smelling roses are now only a memory, like Granny and Papaw. The honeysuckle that has overtaken the beloved flowers require no loving care. Yet the emitt an enchanting – but entirely different – fragrance; I’m not sure I like it.