Beyond the Gate

As I sit on my balcony, around 5 in the afternoon, a mysterious sound floats through the air.

It is a musical sound, sort of like a caliope of old. The tune changes every few minutes.
I close my eyes and I picture a small town on the other side of the gate- one with no crime, no litter.
A town where everyone says hello, and men tip their hats when approaching a woman.
The children are well mannered, and near the gazeebo is a carousel and the caliope playing that old time music.

People are walking through the park, and in town, The Olde Malt Shoppe is serving ice cream sundaes.

My mind wanders a lot on theses spring evenings as I sit on my balcony.
I dream of homes with big backyards, and screen porches, and neighbors watching for each others kids.
I dream of those days when you could leave the roof down on your convertible when you did your shopping.
I dream of those days when you could leave your door unlocked and sleep the night away without fears of crime.
I dream of those days when you felt safe shopping at the mall with out fear of being robbed.
I dream of all these things when I hear that mysterious music from the other side of the gate.