On the sun burnt pavement,
I tread swiftly,
My ankle boots,
Covered in warm yellow dust
From the sunflower fields left behind.
Lining the red bricks,
That I walk up on
Ever so lightly,
Is the vast never ending highway
The dark black broken in places
By the attention
Cast by the streetlights.
Black fierce depths,
I do not seek.
Nor the transient spotlights.
For I’m not afraid
Of the ups and downs.
I’d rather question,
The deadpan multitude’s blame, against tranquility.
Instead, I’d come striding down,
sniffing the coffee from the cafè downtown,
Or watch the swallows skiing through the perfect blue above.
And glance silently,
as the sword of reputation falls to the ground and shatters to nonexistence.
I’d rather walk on the sidewalk,
And rescue the forgotten kittens by the litter
And view the starfishes on the sand,
return to the unrestrained waters of the sea beside the walk.
Other than the broken nocturnality,
All immeresed in fancies and fantasies.