A paper ball
Crushed, crumpled
Sails down the street.
In the gutter
The dirty water soaking through
In running
Colours spilling
Bright against the grey concrete.
Bathed in artificial light
Carried away by the rainwater flow
And the wind
Steadily, silently
An aimless journey
Complete in the loneliness
At peace with the winter chill
Unafraid of the end of the journey
Who knows?
Maybe the pathway to heaven
Can be found in a drain.

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