Cooking wafting from kitchens

As I walk alone along the footpath

Avoiding cracks and broken glass

Suburbia, the innocence of it all.

Screaming children clinging to puppies

Enticed by the cat next door

As I walk beside them and shake my head

Suburbia, I love its presence.

If you can’t get by on the local guys

You don’t have much in it for you.

There isn’t a bus or a taxi nearby

Suburbia, limit our aging.

You must say hi as you pass the locals

The yokels out on the streets

With their moping eyes

Suburbia, enhance your outlook.

Too often is the broken glass

Fresh on the footpath for me to step

Crinkling with every movement