H.+Extended+Metaphor+Poem

The Crack in the Pavement I am more like the old cracked road. Than the new pavement that has not yet erode. I prefer to have the crack from age and enlightenment. Than the new tar’s surface that is full of contentment. The bumps I have are what I’ve learned. And the smooth, slick surface is what it will yearn. As that ignorant, naïve new road would cry out as the cars struck its hump. I, the crack, sit in content with every large bump. The new road watches and whines as the cars roll free. While I watch in expectedness as the cars kreep towards me. But soon that new pavement will begin to crack and its color turned. It will soon know what I know and learn what I’ve learned. What, may I ask, will I be then? Just the old, repaved road that must learn all over again.