Poem: The Gardens

It has been months

Since I’ve sat in this place

Where in summer I’d bask

With the sun on my face.


The lake has frozen over

The city is cold

But this garden, this bench;

In warmth my heart holds.


The world would walk by

As I sat, my lips sealed

Their happiness, their troubles,

Their love is revealed.


Though I may never see

All those faces again,

I remember their woes

Like those of old friends.


But people are scarce

Now the snow has arrived;

Just the squirrels and I

Watch the small flakes fly by.


So I wait for the warmth

To return with glee

When the lovers, and haters,

And wanderers will walk free.





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