Watching A Parade Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Part of the crowd, yet apart from it.

Watching people from inside Valley Burger, sitting,
sipping a diet soda.

Waiting like everyone else for the parade to start,
looking at the activities people are doing.

Standing, roller blading, little children, eyes
opened wide, searching the street for what is going
on.

Little ones so excited, so naive, cute as can be,
staring at the police going by on bikes and motor-
cycles, wondering if they're part of the parade.

Sitting down again, anticipation mounting within
everyone's mind, hoping soon to be expressed in oohs
and ahhs of every kind.

Up again, standing, straining for a glimpse of any-
thing gamorous or shining, stating it's the beginning
of the parade.

Finally cheering, hoorahing, waving, drums beating
rhythms to step in time with.

At last, the marching band, floating, beating of the
parade has begun as flags fly, unfurling in the
breeze right past the window where I sit.

Trumpets blaring out a festive tune, glaring in the
bright sunlight, softly parading, then louder, they
vibrate our insides with their music.

Life has begun it's fantasy on Central Avenue in
Phoenix, Arizona.

(11: 20 a.m. - 12/31/94)