The Park
A cloudy day, a babbling brook.
No leaves on the trees, and birds everywhere I look.
Kids on the playground, parents nearby.
Fields are flooded, the creek measuring high.
It's still my spot, my hideaway place.
I sit and think, it lets my mind race.
Homes on the hill, and squirrels in the trees.
All of us enjoying that soft subtle breeze.
The children now gone, parents took them home.
The park is now quiet, but never alone.
No leaves on the trees, and birds everywhere I look.
Kids on the playground, parents nearby.
Fields are flooded, the creek measuring high.
It's still my spot, my hideaway place.
I sit and think, it lets my mind race.
Homes on the hill, and squirrels in the trees.
All of us enjoying that soft subtle breeze.
The children now gone, parents took them home.
The park is now quiet, but never alone.
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