Evening's blue dominates Central Park,
as Hans Christian Anderson feeds a duck.
And I, alone, Sat in a corner.
As the frozen dried golden leaves dance around my boots.
The Birds harmonize with the saxophone player far, far away.
This, joy, life and love itself.
And I wonder if I found them all in the wrong place.
I look back again.
What is the point of life if you have no one to share your tears with?
-
Author:
Mohsen.k (
Offline) - Published: March 8th, 2017 09:17
- Category: Short story
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments2
Very artsy muse, written very poetically. Great imagery. Kudos,
Pls do review my latest poem too. U r most welcome to.
Good emotive write.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.