Descriptive Essay- The Croswalks Sorrow
I feel as if I am never allowed to sleep. In the small hours of the morning, I might get an hour of peace and quiet before somebody walks in-between me or drags their tires across me. It is a never-ending job, and I am never in control of anything. The only thing that controls my life is the constant changing of the red, yellow, and green lights flashing in each direction. Even that guy, …
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…going to rain before anybody else does. Just when I think that I would like to retire to a street with a lower speed limit, a man comes by and covers my old, tired, gray-white lines with a fresh coat of whiteness. People and cars remember where I am, and it does not seem so bad. It is a thankless job, but if I were not a crosswalk at a busy intersection, who would be?
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