State Route 2
Winding around the lake,
mile after mile,
I see that she is still here.
Were you worried she was gone?
I was too,
but apparently she is safe;
and dare I say thriving.
It is not just a dream.
They have gathered behind home plate,
cheers ring out,
accompanying the crack of the bat.
Is all really well?
The front porch swing gently rocks,
and they sit hand in hand,
just like in the movies.
I feel hope.
The children kick the ball,
ride their bikes,
and chase the elusive birds.
I roll down the windows and breathe deeply.
Wafting through the air is the smell of fresh cut grass,
burning charcoal briskets,
and the faintest scent of lilacs.
I believe this is what it is supposed to look like.
Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister, and Baby
stroll down the block,
headed toward the busy ice-cream stand.
I am sure this is right.
As the sun starts to set,
the bonfires are ablaze,
and the neighbors gather closer.
I do not want to leave.
On the edge of town,
the green fields and burst of amber waves of grain,
invitingly sway, beside the roadside stands.
There is still room in America, for her dream to live.
~ Cristina Jill Mosqueda~
