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Way It's Meant To Be
The graffiti covered STOP sign at the corner.
The lonely tree poking its roots out from under the concrete.
The black road cracked from the burden of car tires.
I walk along my haggard block and
Search for the life it once contained.
The house with no window and peeling paint of the fence.
The crumbling columns of its porch.
The deflated soccer ball in the drive way.
I look at the abandoned home and
Understand the damage neglect can do.
I wonder what it must have been like
Forty or fifty years ago.
When the grass was bright green,
And children’s laughter filled the shiny new streets.
I wonder if that could ever happen again
Or if this is the way it’s meant to be.
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