My House
United States


The ball bounces against the crack of the drive

Two little girls laugh as they miss the backward shot.

Dusk disappears like their childhood

A pass, a shot, another miss.

Tired feet, legs, and arms are ready for a rest

One more shot and it’s time to go in

Heaviness fills the air as they head for the door

Their gaze falls upon a man.

Bulbous bags full of bar soap, weighing down his frail filthy body

Muscles like ice.

The man stands still in the neighbor’s drive

Feet like cement.

His eyes cling to the front door

Like a child to a mother’s hip.

A shared stare, an intrusion

Curious children, curious no more.

Silent screams fill their lungs as the man pursues them

His filthy toes float above the asphalt.

He moves forward demanding their attention

They follow him.

Stop! Says the sign

As he moves through it.





Guide that inspired this poem: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741