by Seth F., 14
The eerie silence
Being like music to the soul
This feeling of being watched
A heart-felt notion of security
As the ground gives way to my feet, before me
I spot nothing, nothing but another stretch of road
The satchel on my back heaves, making my walk only more difficult
Then my eyes spot something more than nothing.
Do my eyes deceive me?
Does my brain lie to me?
Is that really
A person?
West Chester, Pennsylvania
Bridge Ink 