traffic lights (literally)

 I stand there, still, as the day starts

and brings different people with each passing cloud.

I watch as a man gets a rush out of speeding
on his first bike without a helmet.

To me, familiarity is a game.
I see hundreds of passengers every day –
each with a different story of their own.
I don’t recognize them,
but they do.

They know who I am,
but not what I do for them.

To them, I’m just an excuse they bring up in their story
when someone asks them why they’re late.

The only familiarity I recognize is the one I hear:
the sounds of horns played over and over,
as if trying to tell me to let them go.

They dislike me when I show them a shade they don’t want to see.
I’m not accepted as a whole.
They want me only when I show them my best color.

Yet I stand there,
trying to hold them back for their sake.
And I can’t get any more transparent.

This is me
trying to communicate with hundreds of people every day
through the three colors I can express,
despite them not being able to see right through me.

But to me, it’s an experience
I see everything.

I see the young man
turn into a responsible adult with a family,
not speeding anymore
as he picks up his child from school in the evening.

I see them become more careful
when they have someone they care for.

Which reminds me of myself—
because I do too.

I care for them.
I care about them.

And I’ll continue to do so,
even if I stand outside waiting for their approval as they wait for mine

only to leave as i turn red again.

( this was a random task given in class but i think i like the idea of perspectives from inanimate objects

hopefully, ill write more)