Tired feet drag to the beat
of dreary weekday work days long.
They pick up speed on Fridays,
skipping hopscotch between
chalk marks on the sidewalk.
Some turn aside for welcome homes,
but others laugh and skip and run
to where the sidewalk meets the sun.
They seem smaller until they
finally vanish at the end.
They’ve returned to where they’re
meant to be, eternal childhood
and their smiles are rainbows,
all that’s left of them that we can see.
published in Medium
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