PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 Boston, MA

          For years cars wouldn't drive 

down our street, even in broad daylight,

          pigeons and sparrows would hang 

out on the telephone wires above our house,

          a yellow and brown triple decker with

concrete steps and a mahogany-colored,

          foyer, the door to the building 

was never locked and would swing open

          when the occasionally truck drove

by carrying materials for new homes far

             from our street, a different neighborhood

with tree-lined sidewalks, pristine parks

               with inviting playgrounds, cool sprinklers

and welcoming benches to watch the world,

          go by, cars would be near, parked and gleaming

in the sun, neighbors would gather to chat as their

                   children ran with abandon in the park, chasing

pigeons and each other until the street lights came

            on and it was time to go home for dinner,

back to the two-car garages and the cars on

                  the street at the end of the day, glistening

now under the stars, silent sentries of the

                homes and people who live in them, while

our street is empty, vacant and unguarded