The place I used to call home

The houses are lined side by side,

Identical to the ones across.

The street is cracked.

The green Dodge sits untouched

In the third parking space

In front of the houses.

The air smells of smoke,

From the burning fire places.

And the ever-lasting pine trees,

Bring permanent color to the neighborhood.

Rap music blasts from rolled down windows

Of the high school students new black Cadillac.

Young children play in the yard

Of the old lady who is rarely there.

At night if soft rain falls

You can hear the voice of the young widow

Echoing through the streets,

Of a place I used to call home.

The place I used to call home

tntfiya

Richmond, United States

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homes

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