The games we play

like time machines.

We bloom in place —

two fields over.

Full of memories –

and, finally, a uniform.

What is this place?

Who are these people?

Us? — homeless —

residents in summer.

First impressions

of the place — juggling

downtown delights,

messages of life.

Read this —

and don’t forget it:

found poets

find Carleton Place.

. . . . .

Poet: Susan Powers Bourne

Source: FAVIT Week Two

Process: Titles remixed