Walking the Line

[Assaf1981]

Upon the road where yellow lines divide,
Chris and his twin, in summer’s heat, embark.
In clothes that tell of fish and simpler tales,
He stands with ease, while Sarah holds her phone.
She’s dressed in muted hues, her feet as bare
As his, yet nerves cause tremors in her hand.

“Just watch,” says Chris, with confidence in stride,
And sets his heel upon the yellow line.
The asphalt, warm and rough beneath his feet,
Feels like a summer’s day embraced by earth.
Heel-to-toe, he moves with careful grace,
The road beneath him warm from summer’s blaze.
His sister’s eyes, both wide and full of doubt,
Record each step he takes along the path.

Some passersby ignore their curious act,
Immersed in their own lives, they walk right by.
But others pause, with brows arched high in mirth,
Whispering comments, wondering at the sight.
A car goes by, its tires hum a song,
The driver glances, puzzled, then moves on.

The ground, a mix of tiny pebbles pressed,
And cracks where weeds peek through the summer’s heat,
Gives texture to the challenge he undertakes.
Each step seems like a challenge met and won,
Yet halfway there, he stumbles, loses pace,
But quickly rights himself, resumes his walk.
Sarah gasps, her heart leaps in her chest,
But Chris, undaunted, reaches end of road.

He turns, retraces steps with steady will,
Heel-to-toe along the yellow line.
A cyclist slows, bemused by Chris’s feat,
A jogger stops, intrigued, then jogs away.
Sarah’s gaze is fixed upon her twin,
As he completes his feat and grins at last.

But then, a siren wails, cuts through the air,
A signal that their time is at an end.
A police car passes, lights flash in alarm,
They flee the scene, with laughter and relief,
Chris’s triumph etched in Sarah’s lens,
A summer’s lesson on a yellow line.