I knew a place called yesterday’s, where I used to live. Nobody there would turn away their time; they always shared.
Everyone looked out for each other, just as you would expect in that place called yesterday
Yesterday. I can still remember those days.
People didn’t have much, but what they did have was always shared. They greeted each other with waves and smiles, which is how we knew they cared.
We used to call it “mucking in,” which was its essence. It was easier to help one another when all you had was nothing.
Now I live here in the present, on a street of strangers, where life seems much easier if you keep things to yourself.
I was raised yesterday in a household where respect was a standard value. Here, in this place called Present, I find it suffering from neglect.