A Poem


There are no sidewalks
on the street that I live
Narrowly it twists through
the similitudes of the past;
and those of the future
Treetops sag, creating canopies
the sun sneaks through the canopy
and sprays lights upon the creatures

There are no sidewalks
and the streets are broken,
red heart, come back from your slumber
Moss grows in the cracks and
my dog pees on the moss
The moss is green and brown
brown from the drought
brown to oppose the green
brown from my dog’s pee
Where do the dogs poop?

There are no sidewalks
and the modern houses ride
along the edge of the street
with their floor to ceiling windows
for you to see in, revealing their secrets
Accompany me while I sit here

There are no sidewalks
pedestrians and animals roam
amongst the leaded beast
Out of the way, I find my forest
But where do the students walk
on their way home from school?
I spy for their safety.

There are no sidewalks
and the old houses hide
away in the treetops
Long, twisting, skinny stairs
leading up to the cottages
with splitting paint, rotting decks
and insect ridden porches with
screen doors that screech
It gets to be kind of lonely
maybe not,
maybe just a new kind of emptiness

There are no sidewalks
on this street I live
But it is majestic, a wonderland
full of old and new
A cool ocean breeze whispering
secrets, and sun rays to listen
I’m not convinced there’s anything
in what I’m saying.
But I am convinced that
my street is special, it
gives breathe to the living
and holds death’s hand

One thought on “A Poem

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