How Strange It Is

Finally, I must admit to myself 
that I have too long harboured 
a fanciful fallacy that must be 
surrendered to reality. For the
simple fact seems to be that no
one shares residence on this 
street of lovely homes, with me.
Clearly, there must exist a parallel
world not my own, where people
potter in their gardens, hail
neighbours as they stroll by
remark on how quickly their
children are growing out of infancy
and older children walk home
from school. On my street there
is a complete absence of people
though cars appear to live at
these addresses, now and again
driving off independent of driver
to some unknown destination
returning when the mission has
been accomplished, and all is
still again, serenity reigning.