I grew up on a street lined with old trees and old ladies.
Some standing defiantly straight, daring the years
With incessant walking and talking,
Ardently pounding campaign banners into front yards.
Another moving in ageless dance, her gnarled body
Gently swaying to and fro, gliding along the avenue.
One sported lacey leaves of silk,
Gentle words falling from wrinkled lips
Like peach blossoms in springtime.
Lucy brought us dewy camellias,
Right to the back doorstep, rain or shine.
Springtime surprises with the morning paper.
Evelyn always in worried pink
Endlessly fretting over her roaming boys.
Bess nappin’ more and more
Away from the headlights glare
Prompting quiet whispers, heads a noddin.’
Then one by one the houses stood empty,
Blank windows mourned yesterdays
Filled with cupcakes and gossip.
Yet as cold earth springs into infinite shades of green,
Sudden squeals and dashing ringlets
Hopscotch and jump ropes
Bound across the fractured driveways.
Cycles and tricycles in endless motion
Spill onto the avenue again.
PBF © 1999