In the park
a chubby pink child
rests on a bench
in her mother's arms,
eating long strands of blond hair
in affectionate clumps,
and staring at embracing lovers
who smile back.
In the park
pompous pigeons strut about
as a broken statue looks on,
and a harried squirrel
harbors fall in subtle piles
amid the golden leaves.
In the park
a slouching figure
leans against a naked tree
casting silent autumn shadows
that look something like me.


Comments: 20
first, i'd have to contract It.
this is our conundrum:
i may be immune.
by the way the poem is great
The group: We Comment Back
be well
thank you for sheering