On a cold, gray rainy

Friday morning,

I saw a strawberry

on the sidewalk.

Crushed.

And I wondered

Who could have dropped it

Without picking it up?

And I wondered

Who could have stepped on it

Without seeing

That bright flash of red

On the cold, wet, gray

pavement?

(And I wondered

If I wrote that

with line breaks,

would it sound

like a poem?)