The Street

The Street

The street reminded me of you
Something about the light on the front doors
Or the shadows of the chimneys on the gable ends
The way the ivy climbed the fences
Even the cracked paving stones
It was all you
When you were who you used to be
I saw you in the kids with dirty knees
As they kicked their cans and tennis balls
And in the gray grandad with rolled up sleeves
His hands deep in his Dhalias
And in the harrassed mum
Hung all about with shopping bags and babies
Hunting for her keys
I see you clear as day
Twitching lace at windows
Or peering through the blinds
I find you in waving washing on the lines
The green confines of front gardens, the Leilandii
The stunted potted pines
Or the cat asleep on Sunday wall
All of it
You're everywhere. Still here. Still missed.          

                                           Ronnie Dorsey. August 2010