Faded Games

This street has a different hum,

a different shade of gray.

I used to know each crack, each stone,

before I went away.

Then I saw it, faint and pale,

where the sidewalk split.

A hopscotch grid, a broken tale,

where children used to flit.

The squares are ghosts, a pale design,

a sun with missing rays.

Weeds push up, a stubborn line,

through forgotten days.

A hop, a skip, a jump, a fall,

erased by sun and rain.

The distance answers to my call,

and shows me this again.