The Dusty Road

Walking.

A dusty road moves under him

Pebbles run from his feet as they shuffle along

Autumn leaves chase after and past him,

Riding the wind.

A twig snaps

Halted.

Stealing glances over his shoulders

Spying a tree that hides

A big, 

Hulking kid

Eyeing him.

Running.

Not a moment to spare,

He drops his backpack,

Knowing it will only slow him down.

The dusty road moves faster under him

Like a treadmill,

He worries at some point 

He might not keep up with it.

This time, the pebbles dance,

They play around his feet.

The leaves rush to either side

As if to make way for him ,

and the gorilla-built boy chasing after him.

He has no idea why,

But he never did,

Not even once.

Gorilla boy gains,

He runs faster,

wishing for the wind to pick him up

and carry him away.

he looks behind him again,

Big mistake.

One stone does not dance for him,

Instead his foot touches down

And the stone grounds him.

 The dusty road,

Now moving much to fast,

coming much to close.

Closer,

Closer,

and right before they meet,

He knows this is it,

and his head gets accustomed 

to the dusty road.

It brings mercy.

It brings no light 

of what the gorilla boy might do to him 

when he gets to him.

No space for pain anymore.

And the leaves chase after one another,

Running with the wind.

And the pebbles are still once again,

Still as the boy

on the still dusty road.