Sketches in the sky

People were trying to tell him he was a genius.
As he crouched on the sidewalk, chalk in his hand,
Tracing scenes of the city in colors so deep,
They made the ground seem like stars and sand.

Each line expressed a world of its own,
People gathered around, and whispered, “ He’s incredible—look!”
every building in shade, each window aglow.
It was nothing special for him he’d just smile, as his head lightly shook.

He was just Sam, he would always say,
Shrugging off praise as he packed up his kit.
The crowd would come and drift away,
But his colors remained where the sunlight hit.

Each morning, the sidewalk held memories bright,
Of worlds he’d created, in color and light.
He never believed in their talk but was always polite.
He brushed off his creativity, leaving colors behind as he slipped into the night.