in the old
quaint town where they've kept
the cobblestones,
the rail
tracks
going down to the wharf
that no
longer exists, nor
do the wooden
ships.
it's a throwback street
to olden
times.
the men wear wigs,
the women
four layered gowns.
there's a candle
lit in every window.
kids are pushing wheels
along with
sticks,
over there on the porch
is grandma moses
with her butter churn.
i just heard a rooster crow,
the moo of a Jersey
a cow.
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