• My brand new street, though paved long past
    Ends at the mouth of a snow-ridden summit-
    A peak of a hill, unlike the one on which my feet are placed;
    Wishing life could be as solid,
    As steady,
    As the asphalt beneath me.

    But even asphalt needs changing;
    Requires repair.
    A switch of materials,
    Mannerisms.

    Even asphalt gets cracked,
    Withered,
    Worn down with potholes and dust-caked knobs.

    Even the very roads we depend on every day
    Getting to and from work,
    To school,
    Change for the better.

    Don't they?