THE STREET WHERE I LIVE

THE STREET WHERE I LIVE

Just a dirty old town

 ^

 There isn’t too much

I wouldn’t give

To be anywhere else

But the street where I live.

 ^

 The sidewalk is cracked;

The candy store, robbed;

The boy next door, bleeding

As his poor mother sobbed.

 ^

 The park just across

This dirty old street,

Is no place for children;

It’s where junkies meet.

 ^

 From my window with bars

From the top to the sill,

I watch them get high

With their needles and pills.

 ^

 Someday when I’m able,

I’ll just run away.

To where, I don’t know.

But somehow, someday.

 ^

 I’ll go far away;

I’ll go anywhere.

To get out alive

Is my only prayer.

 ^

 For now, I’ll make do;

I’ll make sure not to give

My life or my soul

To the street where I live.

(The street in Brooklyn NY was a wonderful place when I was a child. But through the years, as I grew up, I saw it change – and that’s what inspired this poem.)