Who Lives down the Street

There was an old lady who lived down the street.

Wouldn't go out, not even to eat.

A white van from the church came to her door

And delivered her meds, food, and more.

My brother and I, we watched from a window.

Our mother said not to bother the old widow.

Stories of her husband only claimed he was dead

Died in his sleep, curled up in bed.

I meet the old Lady, one summer's day.

When my mother and brother were away.

She sat on her porch, withered and old.

I asked about her husband, and this is what she told:

"Everyone dies."

And she did too. Not three days after.

And a months later her house was filled with laughter

Also with toys, and couches and feet.

For two kids and father moved in down the street.