Size Seven Shoes

I look at their lives and the many colours and stories. I wonder why it is so full of activity, where mine is so empty. I wander through their worn paths, and ruminate about my own. I falter in my convictions as I study their certainty. I poke tentatively at the differences and cower at the mismatches. I fear. I fear. Look. At. Me. I fear.

Rough terrain slashing the backs of the weary wanderer The dread of the perils of the trail From the ones that were crossed before Uncertainty underscoring the lines The shapes and signs of the ever changing rhythm Time and moments to a life Tying memories around the things that matter The dreams that scatter and crease the brow The whys the wonder of the who how whens Some places you head towards The journey never seems to end or pace to slow Of growing old or grace enough to blanket imperfections Freedom fairness compassion justice to roam An old friend, the shoulder upon which to lean A pillow upon which to dream, to imagine the things that cannot be seen Hope, the age old wisdom, the comforting touch Puts words to songs and music to poetry Makes things so ordinarily missed and neglected Find their meaning And mean much

"Girl," the teacher's voice was a tad exasperated. "Go take the rubbish to throw with Dennis." She hadn't been listening. Or rather, had been pretending not to. "Girl, are you listening to me?" Somehow, this situation spelt trouble. She could feel it already. She lifted her gaze from teacher to Dennis and stared straight into his fidgety face. She didn't like him. Not one bit. The walk to the garbage collection area at the front of the school was a long one. Or maybe it seemed longer than usual because she was less than eager to make this trip. What student doesn't like time to escape classes? Well, she wasn't one to favour it. At least not for these sort of reasons. His pace was way quicker than hers. He didn't care, obviously, that she couldn't keep up. Every now and then though, he'd glance back at her. Pretty much just to gloat, more than for any other apparent reason. Finally, they reached the door to the garbage collec...

As they say, curiousity killed the cat. But then again, I ain't no cat. So... help me out with this survey. I'd just like to know what you think. :) Click here to take the survey :) *Psst... Part 3 of A Glimpse, A Glance, A Gaze coming soon, I promise ;)