There's beauty over there
but it's tarnished.
There's a spirit of youth in the air
that goes unharnessed.
There's a child riding
a bicycle all around.
He begins his gliding
unscathed on the ground.
A perfectly timed breeze
interrupted by a crawling.
The moment's enjoyable ease
ruined by a smacked stalling,
a light pole that stands
only to have its shining burned out:
its one purpose, to meet their demands,
ending with a stone throw and a shout.
My hands go to the right
anticipating an escape of brilliance
but my necessary smite
of a stranger's sidle halts and strangles my resilience.
Whether it be these interruptions or the freshly child-thrown rocks
into the otherwise placid lake
this scene continually mocks
a dreamer who is now forced to wake.
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