Front Porch Review
Everyone has left,
only tumbleweeds reside here now.
Movie posters peel off brick walls
and leave behind ghost-white residue.
Potholes fill with black rainwater
and spit the mirror image of nothing.
Trash cans vomit plastic into gutters
like sea-sick sailors off the side of a ship.
Yellow light streams from streetlamps
irradiating the still-life painting.
Soon, the sidewalks are green
as mother nature claims her rightful ground.
Trees rustle with each gust of wind
the loudest sound in the neighborhood.
Rain mystifies the asphalt roads,
bewitching the city with its spell.
Envelopes spill out mailboxes
joining the rats and cigarette butts below.
Evening fades into darkness
and night overtakes the silent scene.
The bug eyes of paralyzed cars
stare eerily at the camera.
Sitting on your couch, you turn off the TV
thinking this isn’t real until you believe it.
Leah Hearne is a high school creative writing student. When she isn’t working on poems, she’s either drawing or drinking a copious amount of tea. Her work has been previously published on Trouvaille Review and Yasou! A Celebration of Life.