Who keeps track of roads crossed
Every last one the same way
They halt at red, and we move
Then a kid came along one day

He walked with and like me
Until I had to pause
For a platform divided the lanes
Perfectly halfway across

I’d slowed down to step upon
Another step; I was off it,
He kept on, making me stare
He didn’t care the least bit

With a palm pressed to the ground
The child of the streets spun
A cartwheel in unbroken stride
Right against the setting sun

He walked across, into the crowd
Merrily going along his way
Leaving me smiling in his wake
Sparking magic in a mundane day