{"id":50513,"date":"2019-06-22T15:35:59","date_gmt":"2019-06-22T19:35:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=50513"},"modified":"2019-06-22T19:24:40","modified_gmt":"2019-06-22T23:24:40","slug":"hour-7-prompt-9-what-might-have-been","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2019\/06\/hour-7-prompt-9-what-might-have-been\/","title":{"rendered":"Hour 7, Prompt 9: What Might Have Been"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The rural scenery is something I miss<br \/>\nThe pig farms, the cornfields, the hills, the trees<br \/>\nAnd I would totally be remiss<br \/>\nTo not mention the changing leaves<br \/>\nThe coming of age, the small town life<br \/>\nThe slower pace, the lemonade<br \/>\nThe games and hobbies, the firsts, the strife<br \/>\nThe lost industry, the traveling, the meetings, the parade<br \/>\nThe learning, the laughter, the tears and the marvel<br \/>\nThe trails, the rivers, the friends, and the rivals<br \/>\nThe train tracks that ran through the middle of town<br \/>\nThe two traffic lights, one most always out<br \/>\nThe shops and the churches<br \/>\nA fountain of youth<br \/>\nWhere childhood memories<br \/>\nHeld immaculate truth<br \/>\nThose days are long gone<br \/>\nYet I miss them still<br \/>\nThe good ole days&#8217; song<br \/>\nI&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er have my fill<br \/>\nMy roots are there, planted<br \/>\nI sprouted and grew<br \/>\nI took it for granted<br \/>\nThe best times I knew<br \/>\nI miss the simplicity<br \/>\nThe slow, steady pace<br \/>\nBut cherish their memories<br \/>\nWith infinite grace<br \/>\nMy heart longs for home<br \/>\nThe cornfields and trees<br \/>\nThe pig farms and train tracks<br \/>\nAnd life filled with ease<br \/>\nBut maybe one day, we will go there again<br \/>\nBack there to the place<br \/>\nOf what might have been<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The rural scenery is something I miss The pig farms, the cornfields, the hills, the trees And I would totally be remiss To not mention the changing leaves The coming of age, the small town life The slower pace, the lemonade The games and hobbies,&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1313,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,7,1136,441],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-50513","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","category-marathon-poem","category-official-marathon-prompts","category-poetry-prompt-responses"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50513","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1313"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=50513"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50513\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":50586,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50513\/revisions\/50586"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=50513"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=50513"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=50513"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}