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Description
Metal spokes and shades of blue
glide with grace above the pavement,
I sit enthroned, the wind it beats
upon my face as the world shiftsbehind.
Light reflects off the windshields
of vehicles left on their concrete slabs,
bearing the sweltering heat of day,
and the leaves rustle about,
only excited at the coming of the gusts
that whisper and are gone
for fractions of seconds,
as if in a jab of surrealist wit.
The trees, the mighty guardians,
stand alert with faces blank,
always calculating but never thinking.
This is but a Tuesday stroll
starting from my home & ending there.
My path is unlike any other's
with each passing, blurring contour
making the journey mine.
The end is where I start,
as life is only wont to do,
and it's always before me,
and I know where' I'm going
and the world, it passes, the world it shiftsbehind.