If I were a street, though, where would I lead from?

Still I would not be paved
Can I still have the trappings?
The facade that fools me too?

Perhaps cobblw stone
to make me feel special
with my decadent guests

Or soft sand and pebbles
stealing my style from the beach I visit
where the people have fun

I would lead to happy places
but also back to the drear
which in in most lives

I'd follow the noisy stream
which would tell me of its adventures
And Id tell myself I am happy not to move

I lead to a place, then back again
It is all a street can do
some pity me for this fact

But it is what ive learned to know
my place in the world i cannot choose
an ordinary thing personified.