Streetlights

a poem by matt ⭒ june 14, 2026

not a single streetlight
stays lit in this neighborhood.
not a single ice cream van
now drives down these streets.
and not a single summer night slips by
without thoughts of childhood joy.

when the frogs still hummed
by the backyard pond,
when the mourning doves still sung
on maple trees above,
when the streetlights were still on
and we danced under them every night,
playing tag and sharing jokes
that only us neighborhood kids would know,
until nine o'clock came
and we were called home,
when we waved each other goodbye
and all said, "see you tomorrow!"

but someday not too long ago,
those "tomorrows" stopped,
and all of our little jokes,
we dropped and forgot,
and we started moving away
to places we never imagined,
with no time for goodbyes,
before the trucks headed west,
the ice cream vans drove off,
and our street lost its lights.

yet here I stand this summer night
under those same streetlights,
the ones that raised me
that have now turned dark.
but even in the darkness,
I still hear us laughing,
savoring our childhoods
that we once thought
would never end.