just how it is
The trees seemed to close in overhead, black against the red sky for just a few more moments. The street seemed deserted; the antiquated houses were all dark yet getting darker still. While the neighborhood seemed to have fallen into disrepair, it was obvious that it had once been beguiling yet modest. The reason for the degradation was intangible; it was not at any particular point in time that the street lost its appeal.
Still, the houses were occupied; whether by an unconcerned second generation or an incapable first, or by the apparent hermit. Hedges were overgrown and vines slowly crawled up the dark brick estates. Fallen leaves of burnt reds and oranges lay upon the ground; helplessly pretty.
And up ahead, a street sign:
DEAD END.
_________________________________________________________________
There, a badly written metaphor for my life.
Still, the houses were occupied; whether by an unconcerned second generation or an incapable first, or by the apparent hermit. Hedges were overgrown and vines slowly crawled up the dark brick estates. Fallen leaves of burnt reds and oranges lay upon the ground; helplessly pretty.
And up ahead, a street sign:
DEAD END.
_________________________________________________________________
There, a badly written metaphor for my life.