Alone on a peacock green park bench,
I slowly become solitude’s victim.
Dawn emerges, and the trees are drenched –
Drenched in the colours of a welcoming autumn.
The air is crisp against my paper white face.
A towering sun rises above it all.
One ray of warmth, and I’m quick to embrace –
Embrace the crimson pallet of fall.
On a peacock green park bench, I sit alone,
Waiting for solitude to consume me.
Without man’s corruption, true colours are shown,
The world’s and mine, alike;
I’ve found an escape.
My childish instincts are prominent.
No comments:
Post a Comment