Acacia Avenue Poem by T J Morgan

There was a family that lived down the road from us
Seven kids and two scruffy mongrels
We looked down our noses at them and talked about them a lot
Their front yard was littered with rubbish and scrap cars
No curtains, how common!
Fights would spill out regularly onto the street
and every Sunday they'd all disappear into a battered old car
and disappear for hours on end
We'd relish the quiet
Always over too quickly

Then one day, back in the October I think
We woke up and they'd gone
Just like that
The house was left a shambles, graffiti on every wall
The street watched as one while the council came and cleaned
New people moved in, Mr and Mrs Average,2.4 children
No more noise, or shouting, no pavement battles
Twisted hulks of metal removed and flowers in their place
Quite normal looking
Life went on

A month later, the local priest came round
Called a community meeting, all invited, tea and cakes provided
Nodding to neighbours, gossiping with friends
We gathered at the Hall
The priest needed help, more volunteers, more aid
He was short by nine pairs of hands...
The family we had all been so quick to condemn
had not been idle, giving their very all
Literally
Whilst we judged.