MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD

MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ crackerbox houses a house a plumber could afford, barely. I recall the pecan tree, remembering how I spent many afternoons writing stories and poems under its branches. the street was once charged with life~ kids walking to and from school, playing kick-the-can, hide ‘n seek, hopscotch, and red rover. streetlights told us it was time to go home. but the years brought change what was once full of life is now silent. Everyone has moved on. But in my mind’s eye, I can still see the cracks in the sidewalk, the rustling of the pecan tree, the setting sun while drinking iced tea on the front porch, and smelling dinner cooking as it wafted through the open windows. *Note: This poem was originally published at Poetry Soup, June 2025, and Lucky Jefferson Literary Magazine, July 2025.