OUR STREET

A quiet street is ours in a town we all know so well,

a dozen old houses with a small yard and a cobbled road in front.

You can leave your door unlocked all day, there are no thieves here,

for we are all friends. This was my parents’ house,

now it’s mine for the ten years since they left.

Our mill at the end of the street gives us all a job and the money is okay.

This is a small community and everyone knows everyone else.

Will this last, will the mill stay open?

Who can tell—but for now we enjoy our life on our street.