Graphite Steps

My soles press soft into sidewalks. I leave a trail of graphite steps They etch out my first sentence— a diary in crayon, a novel in margins Time sharpens the graphite steps I stroll through my city growing younger White tiles paved over the dirt path I loved but look: beneath the cracks, faintly traced, ghosts of my graphite steps Size 5 kneels where a bluebell once bloomed Size 16 lingers at the turn when love grew bitter Size 20 steps slow, the graphite darkens— a crossroad still warm with roads unchosen I walk my city, the mirages flicker between streetlights and soft recollections the wind stirs a hushed whisper my graphite steps lift into the air