By Mikhail "Misha" Vaissenberg, a former longtime Soldotna resident and Marine veteran now living in Arlington, Virginia
I remember all the stories, that I heard when I was young,
I recall the distant memories, of the winters come and gone,
Then the wicked day that came, when we lost our dearest friend,
In the dusk, a curvy path took away an angel's breath.
Then those summers on the hill, with no worries and no cares,
Freedom, joy, and all that sun, bred a strange desire for fun,
When the rains came to nourish, all the greenery would flourish,
I would lay down on my back, chewing straw and smelling grass,
Watching, waiting on my dreams, hoping they would never pass.
All my thoughts and my reflections always take me to the river,
To that little fishing hole, where I grew to love my verve,
Waist-deep, wading in the water, life could never break my nerve,
Where the sun would set on us, life would never break our stride,
I remember all the sounds, and all the smells of every tide.
Even now as years may pass and as memories may fade,
The sense of home it always lasts and I will never let it fray,
In the misty, northern fog, lights were always full of promise,
In the crispy summer morning, I would always find myself,
Underneath the twinkling stars, I would dream of my tomorrows,
Even though the world was new, I had no fears, I had no sorrows,
It was always next to me, the splendor that I long for now,
The calming sounds of the lake, the beauty that no man could fake.
The Last Frontier, the land of voices, the place without stale choices,
The morning dew, the smell of pine, the fresh aroma, so divine!
The Northern Lights, the vibrant sky, the place that never has to try,
A home for many of our souls, this place, it's always so alive,
A little share of peace and comfort, a quiet refuge for our minds.
For when we leave this magic place and when the winds of change do blow,
The spirits of our life and love will always float and always glow,
The heart that beats here never quits, the heart that dies here is eternal,
Just take a breath, hold out your hands, and feel the breeze as it flies free,
There's no remorse, there is no pain; Alaska is the cure for me!
Poems must include the writer's name, phone number and address. They should be kept to no more than 300 words. Submission of a poem does not guarantee publication. Poems may be e-mailed to firstname.lastname@example.org, faxed to 283-3299, delivered to the Clarion at 150 Trading Bay Road or mailed to P.O. Box 3009, Kenai, AK 99611.
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