The Village

We used to walk along the street,

and converse with the people that we’d meet.

In the village, at the fair,

there was a spirit in the air

We laughed, we loved, the village grew

So big, there were few we knew.

Now we walk along the street

and shield our eyes from those we meet.

We lock our doors from fright,

and arm ourselves against the night.

We only talk to those we know,

and so the village stops to grow.

                                    D. Carlson

- Copyright 1998 -