The Journal - 16th St

Filled with longing for home,

his mind rests at the corner of 16th St.

A gentle breeze caresses his cheek

light enough to make him smile,

thinking about the wonders of nature.

Birds chirping in harmony.

Restless movements between branches of the crown.

His observant eyes admire the peculiarities of leaves

falling to the ground, one by one.

So he wonders:

"Is this what it feels like, to live your life to the fullest?"

As the thought of living crosses his mind,

dragging steps resonate in the back of his head.

A man, lingering next to a post, speaks up his mind:

"How far can you run, boy?"

The bothered look in the young man's eyes

isn't threatening enough

for the old man to take off his questioning expression.

With trembling hands gripping to his chair,

the boy lets his obfuscated mind talk to the mendicant:

"Are you blind, old man? I can't use my legs. You can see this wheelchair is my only way to move around."

With a smirk on his face,

the old man drags his steps closer to the boy.

A warmer tone in his voice,

compensated by the cold colour of his eyes:

" You don't need your legs."

Astonished by his words,

the young man nervously laughs at him:

"How am I to run then?"

As another leaf falls from the crown,

the mendicant drags his heavy feet

reaching the corner of 16th St.

He passes the boy,

smiling at the thought of living.

His cold eyes

would reach the boy's glimpse:

"How far can your imagination take you?"

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