The Streets
By Jessica Haugen
I walked across an empty street
I felt its pathway on my hands and feet
I felt the earth of better days
As I rewound to recollection's haze
Oh taken thing, where have you gone?
I'm growing old, and I need something more to lean on
So, tell me when can blind men see?
And deaf can hear, when pain will be set free
From ancient oak, there hung a
swing Collecting thoughts and sights of better things Is Hope a name we used to love? Is this the place that I have long dreamed of? If humanity could open unwilling eyes Life's subtlety of time has spread its wings to the sky This could be extinction of everything but low So why don't we travel somewhere only we know? Let us create a path, uncovered and unknown And fill the trees with memories, the earth with how we've grown For footsteps are the unfilled pens, with which we choose to write The footsteps of our memories are candles we must light |
Photo by Ruth Marco