By Emma Omid
I stare down at the bricks
The cracks and craters
The scratches and stains
And I wonder how long they’ll last
Will they break under the pressure of a giant truck?
Or the light step of a child?
Will it be something big
Or something small?
I can see the snow accumulating on them
Covering those cracks,
Those imperfections.
Everyone loves the snow
Everyone but me.
I love the bricks.
So many bricks.