Paul Goldberg’s most recent poem to appear here was I sat upon my grandpa’s knee (May 2015). 

I walk on my street which is ever so nice
By Paul Goldberg

The streets around my house are ever so nice,
But the block is a block, and you wouldn’t look twice.

Tree lined, broad sidewalks too,
Brownstones, subway stops, are part of the view.

Our Brooklyn block is a pleasant sight to go past
But a lasting impression just would not last.

Then a happening happened as never before,
I took two-year-old Brody out the front door.

Roots of the trees became mountains to climb,
Slopes in the pavement made running sublime.

Up at the corner of Lafayette Street,
Brody saw a subway grate ten feet deep.

Now I’ve passed it before and saw no
Allure. But if you are two and you see such a sight,
it tempts you with wonder and a little bit of fright.
His foot touched the grate with dread and delight
as the rain rumbled below out of his sight.

With courage pocketed from his reign on the grate,
He bounded to the corner church’s open garden gate.

Here he found bushes and flowers to smell
And he chased a few pigeons off a stairwell.

Now on to the block coming to home,
He bounded up our neighbor’s stairway of stone.

He hid in its corners, peeped over its walls
Ignored any thought of my come-along calls.

Finally at home with Brody in bed, I now know
My block is not a block but a playground instead.