here is the house we grow up in;
down the road, there is the house we grow old in.
somewhere down the road, split right down the middle, is everything in between.
in this thousand acre town, there’s not much to know besides the way the grass rubs against our palms while we try to break our falls, or the way the concrete seems to have the same amount of cracks, every time we count.
i found you in this town, three streets up, like you never meant to be far, to be hiding.
i met you in the grass, dewy but ever so sweet.
i met you with a chip in your tooth, dull but ever so sharp.
i met you, loud but never quiet.
this town gave us fireflies in jars instead of train horns and city sidewalks;
gave us nights stargazing in your backyard instead of flashing lights in the middle of the street.
this town was our match in a city-wide power outage, and we wouldn’t blow out the light for a second.
this town made us, but it also saved us.
Copyright © Michele Sherman | Year Posted 2019