He stands on the tar...

He stands on the tar,his toes graze the newly painted lines - white as the flag.

The journey is clear, the grass beckons.

It promises closure, meaning, the proverbial 'new beginning'.


But behind him lies the rubble,

broken and scarred on the ground.

Everything he worked so hard to build,

silently...  it sculpts nostalgia; carves tears.


One road is all he has to cross,

one obstacle to overcome.

He glances left, he glances right

and warily places one foot in the dust.


A flash of light roars past,

he quickly withdraws his foot.

Without so much as a glance -

the metal monster leaves him in it's wake.


Unperturbed, he steps out again - more confidently,

but again he is forced to pause.

They keep flying by, the route is blocked -

the gratification is postponed.


It is only one street, a gap will appear!


He refuses to reverse to where the rubble remains,

the chunks of it larger than the memories retained.


Chaos will always fill the one single lane,

The confusion and anger will always accentuate the pain.


But the promise of grass - untarnished and fresh

is all the motivation he needs - to risk life; death.