Streets are empty this summer. At the playground swings move only from the breeze. Basketball hoops rust in the asphalt schoolyard. A bicycle lies on someone’s lawn: a wheel turns slowly. Where are the children? Curtains twitch to inspect strangers.     I smile when I get feedback. Click the button above and make me happy.   Back to My Poetry Page The Authors Haunt Author Directory The Authors Haunt Library The Authors Haunt Home

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