Zoe Krautner - The Loner

He leans against the playground wall,
Smacks his hand against the bricks,
And other Bordem beating tricks,
Traces of patterns on his feet,
Scufs to make with the tarmique sqeak.

The playgrounds' quick with life,
The beat is strong,
Though sharp as a knife,
Strive doesn't last long,
There is shouting, Laughter and song, .
And a place at a wall,
For who don't belong.

We pass him running, slipping, walking,
In a slow huddled group, low talking,
Each in our, familar tecneqe
We pass him by and never speek

Zoe Krautner

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-loner-4/