A Walk

Sometimes I go for a walk,
Not knowing my where I want to go,
Only that I would finally end up where I started,
Perhaps, with some answers to my questions.

I walk between the unmoving homes,
Planted trees with their fallen leaves,
The occasional flicker of red and blue on my shadow,
Thinking about words for these poems.

I walk near the cars passing by,
Paved roads built on sand and toil,
The dim yellow and streaking lights,
Thinking about my place in the sky.

I walk amidst the music playing,
Millions of footsteps seem to accompany me,
The silence emboldened by white noise,
Thinking about words I never got around to saying.

Sometimes I go for a walk,
Not knowing my where I want to go,
Only that I would finally end up where I started,
With more questions than answers.