Jessica Evans

Walk On

My feet are bare on the pavement,
The solidness of the ground reassuring,
Like his presence at my side.
A smooth, dark patch of tar is a step away;
Treading over it to more of the rough road,
We walk on.

My nose smells meat cooking on an outdoor grill,
But several houses later,
A peculiar scent drifts into the air, origins unknown,
One like fried dough and my grandmother’s make-up.
I ponder it when
We walk on.

My eyes drop down as I stumble
Over a tug on a bright red leash.
I watch him as he stares at empty air, stock still,
Black eyes quizzical, nose twitching.
After a reassurance to us both that no one is there,
We walk on.

My ears pick up the faint laughter
And familiar voices of neighbors,
Enjoying the fading sun in their backyard.
It’s gentle, like the wind chimes suspended from the porch.
A pause and
We walk on.

My skin is exposed to the air,
A subtle temperature dwells there.
Jeans and a t-shirt are comfortable,
Worn cuffs scrape the ground,
And goose bumps rise where there aren’t sleeves as
We walk on.

All of me is at home, at peace, and content.
The ground is familiar beneath me,
Smells reminiscent of carefree times past,
Eyes watching energetic paws slap the ground,
A touch of typical New England late summer afternoon,
Complete with the sounds of the closeness of family.

I memorize this feeling and then,
We walk on.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.