We moved from one coast to another.
We met on the first, and are married on the other.
One was sunshine and salt and southern eats,
The other is rain and mountain and bakery treats.
Now that we’ve settled out here in the West
Our pastime is lamenting on the place we liked best-
What we’d give to be served fresh shrimp and grits,
And how beers by the beach are as good as it gets.
I suppose we were more carefree in those days-
Less distance from friends, no mortgage to pay.
But going away is its own kind of blessing,
Just the two of us, together, progressing.
I suppose everyone longs for homes that they’ve lost,
And yearns to recross the roads that they’ve crossed,
Still I guess we can try to embrace the unknown
And be thankful not to have traveled alone.
Young Old Soul 