Crisp air of a winter morning
Breaths of fog disperse
Taps of paved earth
Cars passing by

There's no one else here
But me on this empty street
Head lowered to wind
Hands stuffed in my pockets
Putting foot in front of the other
Going nowhere, with no direction

This never ending road
Is only under feet
Concerned with only walking forward
Turns left or right at whim
The chill as a second thought
Wind a whisper in ears
Cold is only a feeling
Through the embrace of senses

Time is of no concern
I'm not my body