Looking Down to See What’s Up

Sticks and bones, and dislocated homes.

And parasites, and insights,

And just let me make it to the mic.

And you will see,

There is a real mystery,

To life, to love, to longevity.

The poem above was written during recess, at a chartered school where I was employed as a General Assistant. Nestled behind Brick Church Pike was Smithson Craighead Academy's playground.

Amongst the future Gen Alphas, and Thornburgs; the poem took flight. Sometimes, the external, and internal exploits of life are exactly as they seem.