The Writers' Circle

(a humorous tribute to the sidewalk...posted for the February writing club topic on "sidewalks")


Holding tight all secrets of the passing world
Carrying the weight of those who don't seem to care
As they clamor hurriedly on their way to work and elsewhere
In the chaotic rushed rhythm of life 

Taken for granted only noticed when gone
Lying beneath the soles of others deemed more worthy
Freezing but there to catch those fallen in winter snow
Blistering without complaint on hot summer days

Formed with precise vision and strength
With a single purpose their existence is borne
Utilized only for mankind's pleasure and scorn
Made to withstand enormous pressure from others

Not to be found in the green countryside
No use for them there it would seem
But just go to the city and there they will be
Cracked and worn, ready to endure another thankless day