The blacktop streets absorb the spring sunshine as if intent upon sending heaven's warmth back through my soles.
Those streets that bore our soles, bore our souls, for they were the spaces of free music, dance and song.
In the refreshing light of early daytime, the streets had the hues of artistic dreamtime, soft yet bold pastels.
The streets are the most private of public spaces, much the same as walking in a country lane in some rural place. Yet if you are okay with solitude, if you matured passed the point of loneliness to feel your own worth, there is a vibrancy here that can uplift the soul. All around there are moments of kindness, fleeting smiles and gestures of appreciation that are the beauty on this canvas of weathered grey. We are separate, it's true, but we are together too. These streetlamps that light the way in every nighttime are ours, as brilliant as any landing strip for skyborne pilots.
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