by Mel Taylor

The
sun falls into the valleys hidden between the Olympic Mountains as the moon rises from tides of the ocean, that gently flow into the Hoquiam River.

Shadows
fall onto the city as it begins to wind down, the street lights come up as window shades begin to close in this beautiful river side neighborhood with its big houses and historical stature.

The
Polson Museum stands tall with its history of the harbor and a memory to the magnificence of long ago, as the jewel of this neighborhood its lights begin to flicker as each room becomes illuminated casting shadows on the little house sitting next door, at 1609 Riverside.

Within
the walls of this quaint little home that is overshadowed by its counterpart a child cries in its room hungry and malnourished, neglected and abused.

Within
the walls of 1609 Riverside a daughter holds tight to her pillow shivering in fear and overwhelmed with feelings of guilt as her father stops at her door.

Within
the walls of 1609 Riverside a son contemplates suicide as he loads a 22 pistol as tears fall from his swollen eyes down his stinging cheeks onto his blood stained shirt.

Within
the walls of 1609 Riverside a mother lays on the bathroom floor with a belt around her arm a needle in her hand and a small pool of blood on the floor.

Within
the walls of 1609 Riverside a father shouts in anger as he throws an empty bottle of Jack Daniels at the family photo and stumbles to the couch.

Outside
of the walls of 1609 Riverside the sound of peace resonates through the trees.