My house,
my very, very fine house,
in the middle
of my street,
where life stirs
with every step,
where our stories
are written.
Children play
in the park,
my neighborhood
park,
in the middle
of my street.
Children play
until the first
shades of dark.
People walk
to the corner
shop,
exchange
handshakes
and hellos.
Our happiness
shows.
Neighbors gather as day fades,
warm window lights glow
on familiar faces
of the familiar street
we call home.
Tonight,
you’ll bring the flowers,
I’ll start a fire.
Knock on the door,
welcome to my house.
We’ll play some music,
but not too loud,
watch a little bit of TV
as children
play in the park,
my neighborhood park,
in the middle
of my street.
