The Park

The Park

Sitting on a bench, watching the world pass by,

Bees buzz and eagles fly,

This park is a special park, the one I call my own,

My place of solace, my quiet home,

All sorts of characters can be found here,

Those who are strangers and those I hold dear,

The park is so peaceful, never more so than at night,

All that guides you home is the lamppost light,

It is a park of wonder, no drug dealers to see,

No thieves or pocket-pinchers to worry me,

My friends sometimes join me to play in the park,

We’ll play from daybreak until the moment it gets dark.

©2008 Mikey Green