Yesterhome

Yesterhome

Leaves dash a cross the sandy streets of my hometown
Some impeded not crushed by the occasional passing car
A softball game stirs the otherwise silent afternoon
The sharp connection of aluminum and pleather
The spectators hoot and howl lackadaisically
Present for the people and spirits rather than the game
Kids run along the sidewalk a cross the street in a game of super soaker induced cops and robbers
Laughing and unloading their liquid based firearms
Glee and mirth soak them to the core
Innocent and clean
One by one they are called in for dinner
The teams shake hands after a 3-2 victory for Sam’s Bar
But leaves still dance tirelessly around the neighbor hood
The sun seems to slide unwanting, out of sight
Its muffled glow warms the streets
The trains sing their lullabies and I am slept Leaving naught but wet footprints, bottles and someone’s Big Mac box to decorate the comforting halls of yesterhome