Puddle Stomp
by Jessica Bozek

Morning Break.
His feeble body weakly carried, across
the black parking lot.
Octobers chilly air lifts his
thinning hair.
He stares at his rubber shoes covering
his feet, then at a puddle, left by
an evening shower.
Looking for spectators and
successfully finding none.
He stomps about in the tiny puddle.
Then returns to his akward walk,
with a childlike smile.


Jessica M. Bozek
copyright c2002
Jessica M. Bozek
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