Marching

She, striding down the sidewalk,

Through the leaves, arms swinging.

Late to class?

Oh if she could see

The determination, no sideward glances,

No uncertainty in the autumn sun

And dry leaves a flutter crunching

In her wake.

Who is to benefit from this focused energy,

Head held high,

Knowing where she’s going,

Not turning away,

Fearless,

Charging toward…

What?

  
-Small town boy

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