The Long Charade

A young boys Timbs hitting the cracked, uneven asphalt.

 Frantically running,

 a generic suburb on a hazy,

Summer night.

The sounds of a violin medley,

plays to a crescendo…

The boys a teen now.

It’s a brisk, winters eve,

the cracks are more prevalent,

the surface is more uneven,

and he’s still running.

Heavy breathing,

storied past,

weathered eyes and a broken heart…

He’s a man now,

an elderly one,

he begins to slow down.

But no more violins…

Instead,

horns and trumpets,

begin to swell and consume…

The old man stops.

 He looks around,

at this sleepy, overgrown,

suburb….

It’s Spring,

the man takes a big breath and exclaims…

FREEDOM!