DON'T CROSS THE ROAD

At age six

I ran away from home.

It's hard to 

run away from home

when you're not allowed

to cross the street.

Then, until age sixty-six

my life, a flurrying blur of

fact and fiction, avowing

to all the Peeps I meet--

I had crossed many a street

 Nearing age seventy-nine

and Oh yes! I feel fine!

In unison voices, aloud,

hear them? Listen! 

“Run away, Peep.

 But don't cross the street!”

Hear sweetest bird-sounds

and a violin in the woods.

See tombstones of the dying

and ashes of the dead.

And someone said,

in foreign code,

“Do not cross that road!”

steveroni

April 2012

Posted for D'versePoets Pub

- OpenLinkNight -

every Tuesday,

starting at 3 pm EST.

Photos courtesy of a friend