Sidewalks

The sidewalks we journeyed

Are like scars on the hands of time,

That carried us to the places

We never knew we would end up.

But like buildings under construction,

They reshaped the unwilling passengers

Who trespassed the line of innocence.

Black and white were brought together,

And combined into a shade of gray

That was so easy to comprehend.

Conversations to the eves dropping,

Of a naked eye could only be seen

In the form of laughter and the reflection

Of smiles that shine on the lover’s cheek.

Last words can never be said

In the way they were before but

Hands still reach defying the miles,

And voices that say it can never be done.

It doesn’t make sense to

Line up at a coffin and pay your respects

To something that is still alive and

Where a body doesn’t lay.

While in that same moment,

There is a seed planted underground,

Growing ever so slowly like a child

In the stomach of its mother.

I don’t know if we will ever see

What we started because

Our words can’t be said,

Like they were before.

But that is insignificant.

Because on the sidewalk of our journey,

I revealed to you three words wrapped

In the sincerity of a promise,

And that promise I always kept.

Andrew Hall.