I sink to the curb weary worn

I sink to the curb, weary, worn,

this day’s weight heavy, like clothes that are torn.

Gravity’s grip has pulled me low,

my spine, a curve like a question I know.

Each ache a reminder of burdens that crawl,

settling in muscles that tighten and sprawl.

The asphalt greets me, rough and cold,

tales of fatigue, in every fold.

I breathe, a slow rhythm, seeking release,

letting the chaos of the day slowly cease.

In the dimming light, there’s a moment to sigh,

as my back sinks into evening, the sun says goodbye.