Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2016
The corner house
Has three missing fence planks,
So the boys got their short-cut
Across the front lawn.
It was three a.m.,
I saw them, I yelled from the window,
Hey guys. Stop that!
They tossed their cans onto the asphalt.
Her bedroom light came on;
They were the night.
I heard their hurried pace,
Their laughter like warning fog horn blasts.

Butch's mother next door died.
It was a year before I knew.
I thought she went to Florida.
I pictured her sitting in the sun.
But she was gone.
Butch shovels snow,
Obsessively.
That's what I know.

The doobie brothers
Live next to the cop.
Their driveway's a busy spot with comings,
And goings.
But the cop's part of our hood,
Disrection's understood.
Besides,
Officer Bob has his troubles to tend to.

Then there's small Mary,
She lives two doors down.
She has to be over a hundred,
Once lived on a farm.
She rakes debris with her hands,
Bent over for hours,
Cleaning her lawn.
     (Butch shovels her walkway,
     but stays to himself)
I've waved to Mary
When she's out and about.
Good to see you, I shout.
Nice to be seen, she replies.
No doubt.
Francie Lynch
Written by
Francie Lynch
765
       ---, bex, The Dedpoet, ---, Denel Kessler and 13 others
Please log in to view and add comments on poems