Ian Fletcher writes

A Suburban Road

I still return

from time to time

to my home road

my parents’ house

still standing there

as their monument

and my inheritance.

The older generation

I knew as a child

are now mostly gone

neighbors who have

simply disappeared

erased from the world

like leaves that fall

from autumnal trees.

Yet their houses

are filled once more

as leaves are replaced

season after season

with new occupants

ignorant of those

who once claimed

this road as their own.

The view remains

very much the same

with leafy suburbia

being timeless it seems

but my sand is sinking

and I myself must soon

leave the tranquil scene

of this suburban road

continuing obliviously

as if I’d never been.