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Neighbors
by Jim BenzWorking briskly through
the changing seasons, how seldom
we take notice. Here, at the gate
between yards, where once
we laughed and watched our children
play beneath the lilacs, I knew
your smile, the music of your voice.
But now, the lilac bush is gone
and in its place, a wooden fence,
a gate, a rusty padlock. 02/15/2010 Posted on 02/15/2010
Copyright © 2026 Jim Benz
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by V. Blake on 02/15/10 at 08:25 PM Excellent as per usual, Jim. It was almost like the antithesis to that old Frost poem, and made for an interesting read. Thanks. |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 02/16/10 at 02:21 AM Now,Jim, this is truly my cup of "tea". lol
I just love this creation of nostalgia. It reminds me so much of what I FEEL in my own life,and as I look back on it and ever so amazed that I have come this far on the journey.You have expressed it well, my friend, and especially in those last two lines. excellent! |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/16/10 at 05:57 PM You pinpoint what I feel about the loss of community, that rusty padlock. Sad, but true. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 02/18/10 at 12:42 PM Eloquent expression of the passing of time and the too often losses it brings. |
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