The Dark End of the Street

She wanders down the avenue
Wondering at the fall of night
Where white picket fences fade
And wrought iron contains domestic dreams

She recalls the family feud
The rancor over holidays
When logistics fouled the travel plans
And arrival times were fluid
But then, of course, the family haunts
The houses long since sold
The rear gardens now concrete
The gazebo now long gone

She continues on her way
And memory further fades
A few buried treasures in the past
And a song sung by a broken doll.

Art by Gregory Crewdson