The bridges to home
All have been burned
The path to Grandma’s house…
Somewhere it turned
No turkey dressing
No holiday cheer
No tree-lined street
Down which to steer
Bags of groceries…
All empty now
No grain in the bin
No harvest to plow
The sparkling lights
The warm oven smell
Black olive fingers
Stories to tell
That scene is not…
What’s here on the street
Just gutter and clutter…
Nothing is sweet
Lights all aglow
From the windows at home
Festive inside
And they’re all alone
Out on the street
With nowhere to go
Bridges all burned
Nothing to show
David Kettler
11/23/16
All have been burned
The path to Grandma’s house…
Somewhere it turned
No turkey dressing
No holiday cheer
No tree-lined street
Down which to steer
Bags of groceries…
All empty now
No grain in the bin
No harvest to plow
The sparkling lights
The warm oven smell
Black olive fingers
Stories to tell
That scene is not…
What’s here on the street
Just gutter and clutter…
Nothing is sweet
Lights all aglow
From the windows at home
Festive inside
And they’re all alone
Out on the street
With nowhere to go
Bridges all burned
Nothing to show
David Kettler
11/23/16