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I went down, down
Again, to the seashore
Of my childhood,
Expecting to find
I know not what,
But with a heart
Filled with dread.
I saw
Empty weed-overgrown lot after
Empty weed-overgrown lot,
Vacant, tortured eyes
Staring over the Gulf of Mexico,
With occasional concrete doorsteps left,
Leading nowhere!
No one is home,
For no home is there.
Twisted tree roots,
Where mighty oaks
Used to stand,
Ripped from the ground,
Tender palm trees
Twisted 'round and 'round,
And signs, advertising nothing,
For nothing is there,
And no one is home.
WAIT! ! Someone is there!
I see a sign,
Painted boldly on a house!
'Yes! ' it says, 'We are home,
And we shoot to kill! ! '
July 12,2007
Scarlett Treat
Scarlett Treat
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