the little girl sits at the window
she is the dream catcher
the people walking by pay no attention
but she analyzes,
in the few moments of their passing
their essence spills on the pavement
she collects their dreams and adds them to her own jar
she sees them trapped in routine,
yet she still fortunate, in the freedom of innocence
they all brace the cold
the hard, the working life
responsibility and fear
that they will not find happiness,
a companion,
something for which to be remembered,
a voice.
but some look up as they walk by,
observing the world and those around them
and find the freedom they thought was lost
and see opportunities they thought were missed
and feel something deeply they thought they'd outgrown
so they smile
in the scarves and their coats
and continue along
synching their pace to the sound of the lights
to the heights of the buildings
and the cracks on the sidewalk
becoming one with the city
and one with the world
remembering that possibilities do not decline with age
only with fear
only with loss of faith