For what they are…

 

the concrete lane

crevices cradling

dust of walk-by shoes

 

the stone pavement

in hope of holding

another stray peruse

 

the lonely bower

wishing for the walk

of a wandering muse

 

the forgotten street

forging history for

another ancient ruse

 

the bustling crossroad

still staying for those who

pass away, impart recluse

 

the dark alley

walled both sides, its

own escape, an excuse

 

paths, and ways

and maps and days…

stay grounded for them 

to travel far

visiting frays of

passenger feet

remain all, alas 

for what they

are.