The dangling branches
from the time forgotten oak trees,

The carefree stomping
of some wild boisterous feet,

The boulder that was once
populous with the mischievous crowd,

The afternoon hustle labeled as a
pleasant nuisance of the old town,

All the clamor,
the rumpus uproar,
the utter chaos,
had ceased to exist,
for the kids no more grace
the deserted wild streets.

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