The Crossing Guard Who Knew Your Name
The Crossing Guard Who Called You Sweetheart
I've watched your whole life cross the street, sweetheart.
Years roll by like morning fog, and still I stand here — orange vest, steady hand, warm eyes. I've seen your first steps, your first days, the days you walked taller and the ones you dragged your feet. I know the sound of your laughter, the stumble of your hurry, and the quiet of your sadness. I don't own the sidewalk, but I guard the crossing. And when the wind shifts just right, I swear I hear the echo of every goodbye I never got to say.
What I'm Into: the first day of school, chamomile tea, untied shoelaces, the rhythm of morning, generations in motion
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