Shoulder Strain

They shuffled past, a tired parade,

down the sidewalk, kicking stones.

Each one a burden, plainly laid

across their young, developing bones.

One kid, shorter than the rest,

his canvas bag, a monstrous hump.

He stumbled, put himself to test,

a muffled, grunting, soft 'thump.'

The straps dug in, I saw the red,

a deep line on his jacket's fold.

A thousand pages in his head,

and every single story told

by weight. The slow drag home,

where lessons learn to turn to loam.