Image by Amy Art-Dreams from Pixabay
In the Eastern part of the state
There is a village right off a plate
Where the streets are straight
And the people are great
The trees are all ornate
Pumpkins are out late
The weather is up for debate
In this wonderful estate
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The Block Mayor
Like every warm day, Terrence is finishing this day on his L-shaped porch, sipping whisky from a dented flask. Cars pass by slowly, and he watches young women pushing babies in strollers; he hears the neighbors’ arguments and knows which have a regular income and those who are unemployed. Terrence is the self-appointed block mayor, laying judgment on his fellow folk.
By Andrea Corwin 3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
It reminds me my childhood
A fantastic poem you did create! See what I did there, lol! Loved your poem!
I absolutely love this one! I a few short words, I was able to imagine a place... to feel it in my minds eye! Wonderful!
Village right off a plate!