It’s probably gone,
The graffiti-coated stop sign
On the corner of Milton and Mayfield.
The Stop Sign
By Alexandra Longo
It’s probably gone,
The graffiti-coated stop sign
On the corner of Milton and Mayfield.
The one with the loose bolts and tattered edges,
The chipped paint and scratched letters,
Worn and torn by years of endearment.
Shaken by wind and rain,
Nestled in snow,
It felt your tears as you sat under it.
Not knowing where else to be,
Not knowing who else would listen,
Persistent tape clung after the posters had been taken down.
Children’s fingerprints gripped the red paint.
The stop sign had watched them grow.
It felt how their fingers changed,
And saw how their eyes widened in amazement at the world.
It watched them stop at its corner.
First with their tricycles,
Then with their bikes,
Then with their cars,
At last with their canes.
It became a piece of the memories that float through the street.
It’s probably gone though,
That graffiti-coated stop sign
On the corner of Milton and Mayfield.
