The Walk
You could ask me why I get off at that stop.
Why I don't stay on the bus a little longer,
Make the distance a little shorter;
Why I walk for ten minutes instead of five.
The first answer that comes to mind would be you.
But I wouldn't say that,
And you wouldn't ask me that.
Given a few days to ponder the questions,
I would remember the flowers.
The bright window-box bursting with
Brilliant blooms.
What made a mistake bearable that first time.
The flowers, the trees,
The garden;
All reasons to stay.
But the second reason,
Is still you.
Don't take it the wrong way;
I despise seeing people outside of school.
Their behavior patterns are
Different,
Unpredictable,
Uncontrollable.
But walking home, isn't that.
The routine comforting,
Knowing that constants will always remain there.
You will always be on the opposite side of the street,
I will always walk a little bit faster than you,
And I will always know the point
When I can look over my shoulder
And not expect to see you anymore.
And I won't.
It's soothing in its tradition.
The feelings of stress
Melt away;
Not to be missed.
And that's why, I walk
The extra avenues.
