Soft clicks up along the road,
Smelling the blooming flowers,
And listening to the birds song.
A place where I can be myself,
For just as me this place is split,
One dark side, and one bright.
Look to the right at the living,
The beautiful flowers reaching up,
The sun shining on the windows.
Left we have the dead threes,
Its years since they grew green,
Now they hide a graveyard of sight.
The street where I live is perfect,
For inbetween black and white,
Is a stripe of gray where I stand.








15 old applause
