6 with a Sword

Have you ever walked home feeling like that adventurer you dreamt of being when you were.. oh say around six? I did today, walking home. I was able to look up with a great big smile thinking I was coming home for some kind of snack. PB &J, crackers, juice (maybe in a box), even a nice slice of cake. Actually, I was smiling for music, but either way it almost seems that every time I walk home I feel younger. I was able to hop around large puddles with a good amount of jazz in my step. But as soon as those jangling keys were unhooked from my pants and that key to my house was between my forefinger and thumb, the feeling dissolved. I felt like an adult.
Let me describe my walk home. It begins once I step out of those doors fit for asylums, heavy enough too. I walk briskly in hopes that I can get home before 2:30, almost as if racing my previous self. Along that walk I encounter a cylindrical fort of bricks to protect whatever ticket seller we have for any event. Beside that fort are to statues made of iron links, also known as a fence. To me they represent the enclosure of the world I'm about to enter, almost making it seem more dangerous and mystical. As soon as I'm past that gate I'm observing who is around. I look under the bleachers, curious of the colorful trash and if I might find something interesting. I look at the track with a type of wonder only described as familiar. Contradiction? Yes. Again I approach a set of linky lanky statues and a pole, a guard, for the path that lay behind it. A broken cement, decline that starts you off just looking at it. Beside this decent are multiple bushes and invade your and grab your shoulder, maybe even smack you on the cheek to make you leave. But of course I carry on, how could I not? All the way down this "S" shaped trail you'll find homes in the process of draining their color, like running mascara or eyeliner.


Bummer. I lost it. BAH!