There’s a house sitting empty on Sycamore Street
the lady who lived there died just last week
She was old and alone, kinda slow on her feet
I always thought someday by chance we would meet
But she never stepped out and I never stopped by
to see what she needed or just to say hi
A sign reads “For Sale” in the yard by a tree
and there’s a house sitting empty on Sycamore Street
I drove there this morning not sure what I’d find
and peeked in the window through half open blinds
I saw faded wallpaper with flowered designs
Bet a fresh coat of paint would have gladdened her mind
The gutter above me was split at the seams
where a nail and some putty would stop any leaks
I thought of the small things everyone needs
and the house sitting empty on Sycamore Street
I know she liked roses though it’s hard to tell
the weeds have them smothered, they’re not growing well
The green grass is brown from a summer hot spell
I wish I had been there to offer some help
But she never stepped out and I never stopped by
to see what she needed or just to say hi
A sign reads “For Sale” in the yard by a tree
and there’s a house sitting empty on Sycamore Street
I wish I had stopped by on Sycamore Street