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ON A QUIET STREET,
SHADED BY TREES,
FLOWER
BOXED WINDOWS,
AND GINGERBREAD EAVES.
WHITE PICKET FENCES,
GREEN LAWNS TRIMMED RIGHT,
WREATHS ON THE DOORS,
AND
TRANQUIL AT NIGHT.
LIVES A LONELY OLD MAN,
TARNISHED THROUGH YEARS,
GOES TO BED AT NIGHT,
ALONE AND IN TEARS.
HIS
WIFE IS IN HEAVEN,
HIS KIDS ALL GROWN,
HIS HOUSE SO MASSIVE,
NOW THAT HE IS ALONE.
NEIGHBORS ARE OCCUPIED,
WITH
EVERY DAY LIFE,
PEOPLE STOPPED COMING BY,
SINCE THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE.
NOT KNOWING WHAT TO SAY,
THEY DRIFTED
AWAY,
HE SITS BY THE WINDOW,
SO ALONE EVERY DAY.
ON A STREET JUST LIKE YOURS,
WITH PORCH SWINGS
AND SUCH,
CRIES A LONELY OLD MAN,
IN NEED OF YOUR TOUCH.
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