The whine of tyke bikes, go carts whirring by,
The block where long our house is standing tall,
The lawn of seven shades of bluegrass rye,
While I, from front-porch rocker, watch it all.

We pedal ’round the town, inhaling Fall
The nippy, clear, crisp air is cool and sweet,
With signs of autumn, vibrant leaves enthrall,
A pause at Vicki’s for a breakfast treat.

At crossroads, Broad and Elm, we meet and greet
our friends, both young and older, how d’ya do?
On to the ice cream shoppe, the next side street,
Our perfect autumn day is nearly through.

Returning as before, home fires warm,
Kick off our shoes, cocooned from worldly harm.


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