G.R.O.W

Met a man on a street of construction, using no words he gave introduction, between the cracks of sidewalk we travel, lightly, to ensure our journey unravels. No words to exchange, not even a grumble. Aligned with the street is nothing but colors blue, red, yellow, and green. Eye finds the mix to turn them all white and write upon the street that night Calmly I print four letters G. R. O. W. Must breach to burst and elude what’s worse before it all washes away. A knot down the street, troubled you would think, but in the end I call it a day.