Old Neighborhood Youth

It was always such a delight To see the children out in the night Batting stones to curb Picking at snails that trailed on the side of the wall Just waiting for it to unstuck and fall Ice cream melting down their grubby hands The sound of a ball pelting the wet sand The sounds of the shriek and screams and laughter The start of a new game and everything after Nothing like watching youth in the neighborhood That kind of joy didn’t stay like they say it would