Vicariously Living

The train’s whistle screeched,
As it came into the station.
It was time to say goodbye.
Time to end youth’s vacation.

Johnny was heading to Nashville,
To fulfill his mother’s dream.
He only had two things,
A guitar, and one suitcase, crocodile green.

Both were gifts from his grandpa.
Johnny knew that old guitar
And that ratty green suitcase,
Would someday take him far.

He said goodbye to mama.
And looked down at his ticket.
Birmingham to Nashville.
He felt odd, just a bit.

Johnny didn’t really want to go.
His mother was living through him.
He was raised vicariously.
This faded dream of fame, was not for him.

He wanted simplicity.
He wanted the daring life of nine to five.
He wanted two boys and one girl.
He wanted only one car to drive.

But parents push their lost dreams
Onto their children.
Much like those before them,
The grand parent’s generation.

That guitar had made this trip twice before.
The suitcase had been stowed on this very train.
Both came back harmed.
Bruised by the harsh life of failed fame, and lonely pain.

Johnny sat in his seat.
Knowing, that when he had kids,
He would raise them differently.
He was wrong.

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