The grass waved At me from our front window Indian paintbrush flowers Peeked out of the grass Waiting for us The tree in the distance Served us for many things Tea parties With my friends and sister Or a lookout for intruders Always safe A good place to hide Yet we shared it with creatures Squirrels Looking like very adventurous mustaches And spiders Disrupting our nice tea parties with screams But now when I look out Of that old front window There is no grass Or flowers And tree to take shade under Instead There is a field of houses But they can¡¯t be picked and given to my mom Or wave at me in the wind Or give shade for tea parties No My favorite place fell Under construction.
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