Skip to content

POEM: Park thoughts

A red sweater

hangs

in the crook of a tree

a person

sits

in a circle of people wearing

bright blue thumbs.

The sky is whitethick

with clouds, rollerblades click

and ride

across the road.

And cigarette butts lay

at my feet, a few of them,

as if they form some

sort of a pattern.

Are the squirrels truly free?

One Comment leave one →
  1. June 8, 2010 12:36 am

    beautiful poem!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: