Chalk

I walked out with a piece of chalk in my hand.

In that moment it was the only thing I felt.

A soft piece of white surrounded by my clenched fist.

It was clean and bright.

Just like the sky.

I held it against the wall of buildings as I moved forward.

Curving my hand in arcs and letting the white dance along the bare walls.

Not wanting to look at the world behind.

Forward and forward and forward.

I walked until I felt the heat on my fingers, as the last speck of white disappeared and my fingers met brick.

I stopped, looked back and thought of the distance.

It was only a piece of chalk away.

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “Chalk

  1. Wow – how do you write so beautifully?

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