I see over well-trimmed edges
The soft-skinned feet that run through my healthy green sprouts
Through new sprinklers and fresh, free summertime
When everything was new.
Every home constructed in a familiar fashion
And children seem to be a replica.
Nuclear family.
That fence seemed to stretch for miles
And swing set stood 100 feet tall.
I can see ice cream stained smiles
They yell at the top of their lungs
Before they knew of cigarettes.
Happiness must be instilled in those blissfully unaware.
Oh, sweet childhood.
But the houses stand empty now.
My edges wear a dull brown
I haven't been trimmed in ages
And those feet wear calluses and stress.
Of college and work.
Of rejection and downfall.
Freedom never cost so much.
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