Dead End Drive

I took the turn, the same old way,

down the street where years have bled.

Saw kids still playing, bright and gay,

where the pavement simply spread

and stopped. A quiet, dusty close,

the streetlights dimmer, fewer trees.

A red tricycle tipped, I suppose,

lost to the slow suburban breeze.

This loop, it holds them fast,

a circle where the world outside

can feel a hundred miles past.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.