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Click hereI walk along
Rock-strewn paths
In a lonely, darkened park
The flowers here
Have long-since bloomed
And now are withered on their vines
Paper litters up the lawns
Stirring with the breeze
Capriciously flying through the air
Settling softly in the trees
The swing on which I sit
Squeaks with every to and fro
The maypole stands in faded glory
Her ribbons tattered and frayed
I marvel that this park is my life
Barren and decayed
Consciously I tell myself
That though there’s rubbish
There’s also beauty
But deep-down, I’m afraid
It’s just dying flowers
Amongst the garbage
Hotti...
I love the truth of deep reflections of ones life that the poem conjures. Honest sad thoughts on our life.. where we stand and where we go... I felt this poem.. been there done that! Loved the visuals... the maypole.. wow.. nice touch
good writing
du lac