For Her

The sun's shining dark
Grass stalks bend
And whisper to their neighbors
But the wind drowns out their words
Little girls now tucked inside
Dresses back in trunks
Rosy cheeks and nothing hidden but the futures yet to come
I sit on a stone by a big tree
I smell dirt and grass
I scrape off some bark and put it in my pocket
And feel some nondescript urge
I look up and see faded hills
Over which lies the city, waiting
I succumb to the urge and head up the closest hill
I stand and look down at the metropolis' gritty edge
And I stiffen my body - ready for the roll.