I've been wishing I could bask in the warmth of Central park with my sister. I miss her and N.Y. Any way, I got inspired and wrote a poem.

This poem is titled "Central park"

The guys and girls
Conversate in the grass,
The penniless souls
Play bongos and brass,
And the yoga master
Practices his art,
Showing off to girls
With eyes for muscle not heart,
Pidgeons and squirrels
Go about their day,
Ignoring the frisbees
And children at play,
The halfmad hobos
Peddle trash for a buck,
Street venders sell icecream
When the sun brings them luck,
The bicycle taxis
Rake in dough when it rains,
And the Indian dancer
Breaks all the mind's chains,
The carousel sings
It's carnival tune,
And breeze stifles heat
In the middle of June,
The nannies earn pay
With their charges in tow,
On weekends in New York
It's the place to go.




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