Stark Neighborhood Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

In a stark little rich neighborhood behind the care center, a small black and white dog came walking, dragging it's leash behind.
Minutes later along came a young man, hat and sunglasses on, rolling a little girl's two-wheeler bike with training wheels.
There was no one else in sight and it looked a little strange.
A little girl, wearing a helmet, blond hair hanging down out of it, shoulders drooped, head bent, slowly walking came into view.
Noticing the total sadness of her posture, watching I saw that she had been crying.
Apparently, she had fallen from her bicycle, her Dad waiting in the shade, as she looked up and let him know she'd been hurt.
For a while all three just sat in the shade of a beautiful tree.
Once things were better and she could hold her head up again, her Dad helped her put her helmet back on, she got on the bike and rode over to the parking lot.
Dad and dog lagging behind her as she once again pedaled fast and moved farther from them.
Now this stark little rich neighborhood has assumed a gentle personality of home in my mind as I write this poem.