Lost? Yes again the stars fall
on 13th Street where a house, now demolished,
was my home. I was young.
Funeral dirges sound from the new building
and hearses ferry the dead to and fro.m I was young
and swung on the backyard tire swing
one late October afternoon under red leaves
drifting like red stars to my feet.
I was young and then I was gone like the house.
An old woman remains in my place.
— Denise Low
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 
Thanks for all your ingenious and genius work, Caryn!
Thanks for your ingenious and genius work on the Renga, Caryn. You are the best!
I like your poem Denise. Thank you. Tricia
Denise–This poem takes me back to my hometown, my block, and the frame houses that surrounded us. Fortunately, the house of my childhood is still standing, but it was a falling down wreck when I was in Baxter Springs four years ago. Now the new owners have fixed it up. When I see it, I get a lump in my throat thinking of the lives we lived there.
Isn’t this the best quality of a poem, that we can join our images with that of the poet? You’ve made that magic in this poem.