On My Avenue
A solid white colonial house we would renovate until it was what my parents loved.
Built in 1940, she had many owners before.
But in 2007, she became ours.
On my avenue, my neighbors support one another.
They have come and gone, recycling the house to the next.
We had Fran, who resided in the blue house to the right.
She took a tumble down a great flight, and off to a retirement home she went.
Then we had the Jouberts, who lived in the white house to the right.
Two teenage girls, with a huge trampoline, and a love for playing with little kids like me.
When the girls moved on to college, across town they flew.
And in between our houses, my family stayed, not new.
The Wests moved to Mendon, on a small farm,
But stayed put was us, doing no harm.
Across the street, the Collins still reside.
Their daughters babysat me, then away to university the siblings moved on to.
The Stricklands have stayed in their yellow house as well,
Their brand new pool being ever so swell.
Emmy across the street, who is a face of the road,
Like a grandma to all of us,
Sending over cookies and banana bread,
Knitting on her porch until the sun set,
Emmy and Bruce, we all love them so.
Their legendary porch I will cherish forever on.
The Goldsmiths, and the young couples now living on both sides of me,
Both more people who I have accepted to be.
My neighbors know each other and watch out,
Always lending a hand or holding parties to celebrate.
On my avenue, once tree-lined,
By oaks, and maple, and even a few pine.
As the power lines went up, their wooded majestic selves came down,
And barren our street stays today,
Less gorgeous then with the trees, no more cabaret.
The cars speed down, almost hitting us kids a few times,
More reasons our front yards remained as a limit.
In the summer, bushes bud, with splendid flowers welcoming cars,
Making a perfect business tactic for our lemonade stands together.
In the winter the snow falls, blanketing our grass,
When the plow comes and wipes it away, the rumbling sound wakes us all up.
The bus stop at the end was where all the kids met
As we awaited bus number 7 to take us a mile away.
The close proximity to the farmstand made weekend lunches easy,
Or grabbing ice cream on the town with our friends for amusement.
On my avenue, the tree branches came down.
Hurricane Irene, and ice storms breaking our Jeep.
I fondly remember so Halloween’s along the sidewalks,
Grabbing candy and sorting after in my living room.
The teenagers, Meghan, Ally, Olivia and Haley I all looked up to fondly,
From swinging on swings to drawing chalk in our streets.
As we all grew up, they moved on to college,
And here I am the youngest, stuck here in our town,
On my avenue, I miss our pool parties.
Running around, riding bikes, in the cul de sac behind.
I remember fondly so our big wheel competitions,
And our dance games,
And our plays,
And climbing trees to the top,
And building forts in the big, mosquito-infected ditch.
I remember wiffle ball under the street light,
And man hunt when we hit the dark of night.
The electric box was base, for all our tag games,
And the chalk we used for four square got lost in our gardens.
Snow forts in the banks,
Sledding down the street,
Dirt biking and ATV-ing in the woods behind the street,
Our bike ramps which caused broken bones,
The school right across which our family dog escaped to,
In this cul de sac,
These summers I called home.
On my avenue, the games are not relevant any longer,
High school and college stole the child from the teenagers.
The kids up the street still ride bikes and play,
But on my avenue, that exited like day.
On my avenue, the sun warmed by back,
On my avenue, our snowmen got buried in the banks.
How fondly I think when I remember how,
On my avenue,
In my cul de sac,
In my neighborhood,
In my town,
I was raised to be the person I am today.
On my avenue,
I will thank you for the memories quite so.
And cherish them forever,
Until it is time to go.
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