All walkways are a whirlwind of strangers,
a whirlwind of no one and everyone hiding within and
the particulars, I know not.
Never have seen them. Never have heard them. Never have known them.
Closing in on me are the wilting roses and open daisies,
the tight-lipped tulips and bold-scent crazies.
Each person a flower
and creation of their own.
Inching forwards, hiding in the shadows, being whipped through a malicious breeze,
the dark sidewalk loudly grabs the light away from their hopeful eyes.
But the flowers, they still grow.
for the sunshine
which awaits them for an eternity,
the sunshine they know they can grab
if they reach out their faces and hold their heads up just a little bit higher.
And they never cease to touch the warmth and dive past the dark clouds that once brought pain.
Those who wander, I don’t know them.
But their faces gleam with their own rays of sunshine now,
and their sunshine blows away my clouds of thunder.
The rainy day has passed
and the seasons sing on.
I welcome the sunshine that blinds me,
blocking out the dark holes and
letting me walk towards the light to come,