Where I lived was a dead end street
At the end there was a stream
It ran quietly into the River of Hudson
There were floods that would bring the river to my door step
Mud and litter would float and settle
In the winter we would climb across the stream
We would climb the cliffs looking over the river
Drinking and smoking, trespassing on land that wasn't ours
but it was
it is still mine
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
Where I lived was a dead end street
At the end there was a stream
It ran quietly into the River of Hudson
There were floods that would bring the river to my door step
Mud and litter would float and settle
In the winter we would climb across the stream
We would climb the cliffs looking over the river
Drinking and smoking, trespassing on land that wasn't ours
but it was
it is still mine
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