Love the language and the rhythm - especially in "Can we peek o'er fence or in window to discover how we'd live in another's half-hidden space?" Sometimes on my walks, I imagine myself sitting in a particularly attractive window, looking out. The unknown.
I enjoyed your poem, it took me back in time, 1966-68. I lived just south of Beverly at the end of Haviland. I would sometimes walk that area of Whittier, in the evening mist, in solitude.
Can’t remember the color at that time, white, maybe, but yes, probably built in the 1930s, two story, four units, nicely kept up, right, smack-dab in the middle of the street, at the dead-end. The other three units were occupied by elderly widows. I lived in the lower right unit… Mr. Coons owned the place.
Love the language and the rhythm - especially in "Can we peek o'er fence or in window to discover how we'd live in another's half-hidden space?" Sometimes on my walks, I imagine myself sitting in a particularly attractive window, looking out. The unknown.
Thanks, Vicki.
LOVE this! I felt like I could walk along with you around the neighborhood -- and I did love that neighborhood :)
It's been so lovely and drippy lately. Hope you're enjoying your snowy lake. Is it snowy?
Love it. Love all the hidden and unique things to see in the homes of Uptown!
I enjoyed your poem, it took me back in time, 1966-68. I lived just south of Beverly at the end of Haviland. I would sometimes walk that area of Whittier, in the evening mist, in solitude.
At the end of Haviland? No way. Was it a big blue two-story apartment building?
Can’t remember the color at that time, white, maybe, but yes, probably built in the 1930s, two story, four units, nicely kept up, right, smack-dab in the middle of the street, at the dead-end. The other three units were occupied by elderly widows. I lived in the lower right unit… Mr. Coons owned the place.