You revisit the neighborhood you grew up in

and find all those beautiful trees were cut down.

The chimney’s still pumping out smoke, but it’s not the same since

the trees are gone

Those still standing are half bare.

The fences are rotted, and most everyone has moved away,

everyone you loved anyways.

Lonely, the only sound you can hear is your own feet walking down along the street.

You don’t even hear the dog anymore, the barking one that kept you awake for days;

it’s silent or not even there anymore.


You stand at the end of the road and look out as far as the eye can see,

trying to adjust to see something farther beyond,

but you can only see so far without the sun obstructing your view.

The decrepit house on your left has shutters smacking in the wind.

You’ve tried to get into that house but the door was always locked.

You’ve decided to give up, but five ghosts are in the hallway and thousands outside the door.


The walk seemed forever and you’re sure the iron door is still stuck shut.

Are you weak or is everyone else strong?

Maybe someone else could come along and rip the door down with one hand,

running down the street while carrying it.

Didn’t anyone tell you the story of how they got into that decrepit house

and found all the treasures, the jewels from old people long deceased?

    They don’t talk to you anymore.

    You know their families really could have used that money,

    but I’m sure their houses will someday be as decrepit as this one.


    You’ll keep looking out, but the sun still blinds you.