by Nicholas, 17
Here he closes the door and zips up his coat.
Here is a leaf blanketed in frost.
Here is the deep purple sky.
Here hands rest in pockets and gloves.
Here breathing releases pent up steam.
Here one shuffles across the street when cars turn their backs.
Here one carries his paper burden in his bag.
Here a tired face looks back in the glass door.
Here the sun sleeps in.
Here the cold wind yawns.
Here teachers call out to students.
Here one is awoken.
Written in Response to "Here" by Arthur Sze