A Street

 A Street poetry stories

redwonder Father, Word sniper, New writer
Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
Observing my local surroundings in the first lock down, jotted a few notes about life here.

A Street

When walking streets unseen,

In early hours from lamp post to church flowers,

Kissing under the clock or swanning about the stairs aloft,

The street that I grew up,

From carnival times,

Nights out or trying to park,

The street of stone,

Has endured alot of my ill remarks,

Still it is home.

Now stuck in a sunday morning rut,

For quietness and still,

The street is avoiding being ill,

So I wake unsure, uneasy,

The daily inception of the quarantine,

Pillaged dreams and nauseated thoughts,

For news is not like before, just a highlight reel of this strange time we live in.

Beginning days like this were a dream away,

Back when lockdown was a positive way of - affirming something done,

For all day at home; no plans, alone or spending time with ones you miss,

But now you more than time can bare witness,

Theres first steps for some or work to be done, For parents are now teaching kids,

For the key to random acts of love and live are blossoming and nature is returning,

So you long for that time before when, Quarantine was just a high score on a scrabble board,

For Families,

For Friends,

For Human Interaction,

Touching hands, Exchanging glances,

Now you speak to acquaintances,

For more joy is in the little things,

Abserd to think,

We all live on just a street.

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