Cheering for the man walking slowly, deliberately, with his bag of goodies, as the light blinks in accordance to his step.
Blinking a warning of the cars to come.
Cheering for him to cross.
His waddling steps, his mismatched limbs, he HAS a place to get to. Cheering for him to get there.

Cheering for the car you can hear before you see. The ailment of technology.
Stumbling sputtering, dragging tooth and nail, over the paved street towards salvation of the station.
Grab a little air and the wheel will keep spinning. Driving off now, they have a place to go now.
Cheering for their wheeling off in peace.

Cheering for the nurse, still dressed in arms. Who sees hope and fail all day long, at days end she finds herself, a lottery ticket, or two, or three, with a little extra hope that she
will be one in a trillion.
Grabbing all the hope she can muster, just her, clenching those tickets hoping. Maybe even praying, or chant.a.lanting that this will be the one.
Cheering that the woman will find hope wherever she can.

Cheer for the family, bus tickets in hand, mother to the baby and the four in between, pressing their pass into the machine, one after another, for a ride.

Cheering for the man upstairs, rattling away in his chair. He has had loves and companions once, more mail in his mailbox once.
Cheering that a letter will suppress the downward facing etchings of his mouth.

Cheering for the girl who, sits alone on her perch, while true, thinking of falling or flying or both, from the suspended atmosphere of her perch.

Cheer for the ****, cheer for the ******, cheer for the best of lucked, cheer for the cracked, cheer for the fallen, cheer for the ones that beam, cheer for the home team.