Break

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch Reds, yellows, gold's, and oranges, Foot makes contact with a bunch Of techno colored leaves On the way to place where one eats, dreams, and reads Maybe study Fingers are icy cold, I feel the bumps all along my arms I count the cracks on the sidewalk and play Charms Hiss, hiss, crack The father sings Italian lullabies to his little girl She lists off her dreams and hopes He takes her in his arms and gives her a whirl Two old women, speaking of trivialities, turn their eyes towards me With a condescending look As I realize where the time has gone, I blink the fog away and close my book The sugary drink I ordered is but colored water The air is more chilled, it whispers icy secrets and wraps itself around me A young man is at my table He's staring at something that I can't see He's seeing his past In a written diary His fingers flip the pages His mouth breathes a cigarette His expression is sad, he looks like he's lived ages