Broadway in a Small Town
Clouds are endless above the merry-go-round
washed with nature’s spirit.
Paths in the park now overgrown with weeds,
stones tossed by restless children away
from the pond now empty of ducks.
Rich and famous congregate in the heat
of summer and slowly leave as August
begins to empty trees.
Bands no longer play along Caroline
Street; inside, outside, on roof tops,
corners, alleys and side streets are
quiet in the afternoon.
Out door eateries and crowded bars,
red sofas in the center of a city yard
where iron gates keep the young away.
One black iron gate shuts an elevator
door to take you to the top floor –
inside my mind everyone jumps, a
railing lower than knees.
Like ducks without sunshine and a
path without laughter – as children are
gone from the backs of horses – where
“Spit and Spat,” statues in a distance
glance with marble stars on their faces.
Nature brought summer clouds, showers,
storms, yet we have made the wind –
tunnels and shadows leave as a sun.
As summer leaves with natures gifts –
natural winds of fall take away a shade
tree – but no one rests there on
Broadway – it is gone the season for
Broadway in a small town.