A day down the park

 The trees and roses sway

In unison from the song of

The wind, lisping its rhyme

Through the stems and leaves –

 

Traffic from the evening rush

Hour, hums gently in the distance

While we lay on the grass

With our eyes averted to the

Heavens –

 

A man with swept back, grey

Hair, a smart suit and a

Limp, smiles as he walks past

Us, as if in reflection of

His own youth –

 

We lay still in the park

Drifting on moments

We cannot control,

Happy, reflective and amused

We stand drearily at the

Peninsulas of our lives –

 

Several species of bird

Murmur and coo in search

Of some scraps of food

Their bobbing heads, resembles

A human finger, tapping

At Morse code –

 

To our left, a collection

Of trees, in particular a

Large Oak, reminds me

Of a cross, and of the irony

Of Jesus, a carpenter killed

Upon a wooden cross, constructed

By a fellow carpenter, did

They belong to the same

Union?

 

We toss a coin, to see

Who will have to go back

To the shop to purchase

Some more cans of lager,

I loose, and pick myself up

Amid my friends merriment –

 

The rush hour hum, becomes

Increasingly audible, as I

Exit the park gates,

I leave the park, as I will

Exit the world, alone…