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I spin in public

Waiting to cross
the street
I shuffle upon
my feets
The red hand will not
retreat
The walking guy continues
to sleep

Waiting for green
to go red
Restlessness wrestles
my head
I remember that thing
you said
'Adulthood is like
being dead.'

So I start to move with
my feets
Avoiding the curb
and the street
Spinning in circles
on concrete
remembering you
who are sweet

The red hand then
goes away
and I can now be
on my way,
but this spinning is making
my day,
so I stay on the corner
to play.

poem by John W. McEwers
Added by Poetry Lover
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