Sentimental Geometry

I don't know where it goes or why it goes there. That endless chalkboard full of dust. Everything we once wrote there splintered into particles too small to ever understand again.

The only proof I have is that I'm still here.

Scribbles on the sidewalk. Sneakers on these paws. Hopscotching backward through the numbered squares in our hearts. One stone at a time.

Magnificent moments at every corner. One foot more than enough to balance upon. Willing. More than willing to fall. Forty-five degrees each. As it joins. So it parts.

No closer to being whole.