There was a family in our street <br />whose house was never painted, <br />and their garden was unkempt, <br />as if they had no real respect <br />for neighbourly commitments. <br /> <br />We looked down on them a bit, <br />pitying their lack of funds. <br />It wasn't till some decades on <br />that we heard how they'd travelled, <br />round the world, all summer long. <br /> <br />I remember now, they came back with a tan, <br />soon washed off by English showers. <br />Most of us just saw their run-down home, <br />and didn't realize that their lives <br />were much more interesting than ours.<br /><br />Robert Melliard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/neighbours-10/
