“See the world with eyes unclouded by hate…”

I walk out my front door

My neatly laid sidewalk,

Contradicting the craggy sidewalk of the city

There is a tree for every four steps,

In spring, they’d be really beautiful,

But they now stand lifeless in the winter wind

From here, the entire town seems gray

Like a cloud, or a puff of smoke,

From the exhaust pipe of an old jeep

It’s cold now, in January,

Sparse people pass one another,

Like two ships passing, in the dead of night

Careful not to make eye contact.

Uphill, downhill,

I lose count of how many exactly

Once in a while, a stray car will drive past

Thudding over the many potholes

All are busy, trying to get away,

From where they were, wherever that may be.

Focused only on their goal,

Heedless of the journey

But not I, not today,

I make a right turn at the tree with the broken branch

The houses slowly change,

Become cluttered and ill-repaired

On I tread,

Uphill, downhill,

To the house near the alley,

With the blue porch swing, in need of painting.

I knock on the glass window,

But receive no response.

So, with a sigh and a shrug,

 I return home, uphill and downhill once more.

Andy Gibson is an eleventh-grade student a Central High School in St. Joseph, Mo.