Sidewalks

There's something so freeing about the walkways, sidewalks and hallways.

In my head, they morph into runways.

With ears plugged, with or without my sunglasses,

I strut.

Seeing myself taller than everyone else,

I strut.

To  Doja, Drake or Dua

If you look closely,

You could tell I'm smiling behind my facemask.

Sometimes it's a fierce face with dramatic eyes.

I strut for a silent audience,

Lost in the noise of commuters and hawkers.

I get a high from their lack of focus on me.

I strut,

With my kitten heels, flats or sandals,

As the wind sweeps my braids from side to side,

Lightly whipping me on my back.

Don't look so carefully on the sidewalks,

you just might spot a girl in a coat or a gown,

Swinging her bags,

Strutting confidently, somewhat awkwardly on the road.

Photo credit: pixabay.com