Walking back

Walking back
under overcast
summer skies
beneath a tangled
canopy of pine trees
two objects lied abandoned
beside a mud dirt track
One, a birthday balloon
red, barely bloated
sending its rainbow
greeting to passersby
The other, a diaper
cotton body mutilated
but still intact
fragments waving
in the wind
designing the soil
in spots of bleached white
‘People who walk this trail
are usually clean’
my companion remarked
All the while an unexpected
chill seized our sensitivities
with the heavens preparing
to play a melody of rain
over our uncovered heads
But we trooped on
Our footprints lifting up
the ground’s agonies
‘Till tar and cement ––
the soil of man ––
carried the burden
of our soles home

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