There are two tonight-
two ambulances,
red lights illuminating the dark neighborhood
as they make their weekly trip to the old folks home
at the end of the street.
This could be the end of eight decades for someone
for a neighbor of mine.
Could be one less crazy old woman
walking down the street shouting at the neighborhood dogs
(and mailboxes).
The lights fade from view as they cross 9th.
A tear falls to my desk
as I wonder
"who was that?
what ended tonight?"
and as I lay down and roll over to stare at the wall
I imagine who they could have been.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
There are two tonight-
two ambulances,
red lights illuminating the dark neighborhood
as they make their weekly trip to the old folks home
at the end of the street.
This could be the end of eight decades for someone
for a neighbor of mine.
Could be one less crazy old woman
walking down the street shouting at the neighborhood dogs
(and mailboxes).
The lights fade from view as they cross 9th.
A tear falls to my desk
as I wonder
"who was that?
what ended tonight?"
and as I lay down and roll over to stare at the wall
I imagine who they could have been.
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