to think there was a time
flowers would bloom from where i walked
adorning trails towards my destination
marks of grace to which eyes would follow
petals continue to grow, unperturbed —

now, my footsteps just abide
within the corner of their keen eyes,
though blossoms i hastily step on
i continue each defiant stride,
weary knees begging to arrive home
enduring a journey from the path so tedious
i no longer leave traces behind
on asphalt, dismal and porous.