My side of the street,
it's my side of the street,
children play on sunny days,
scamper in bare feet.
It's my quiet town,
my small, quiet town,
unlocked doors, a big front porch,
that flag don't come down.
My own piece of life,
built my own piece of life,
grimy streets and urban heat,
never seemed quite right.
This cottage house,
I own this cottage house,
rolling lawn the dogs run on,
when I let them out.
It's a peaceful place,
it's my own peaceful place,
old blues sing and hammock swings
a much nicer place.
My neighbors I greet,
yes, good neighbors I greet,
waves they flash as they walk past
my side of the street.3
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem