The street poem

Walking down the street,
cobbled stones beneath my feet.
Houses built from stone and brick,
the nosey neighbours don’t miss a trick.
The street has only one blossoming tree;
where the birds and wildlife are set free.
On the street there are no cars;
just happy people selling treats
stuffed into marmalade jars.
On the street nothing happens that’s tragic –
because the street is pure magic.

Published by bookmarkquinn

Mark Quinn has always been creative. A strong desire to fulfill a childhood dream is what spurred him on to write and publish his first book back in 2013. He lives in Manchester, England with his wife and furry friends. He is active in charity work and supports a variety of local causes. Mark’s wish is to entertain and amuse people with his stories, taking them out of their normal surroundings for just a brief time while they absorb his imagination through his writing. Happy reading!

2 thoughts on “The street poem

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