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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
Copyright ©
Jasmine Tsai
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