The Park
A lost memory feeding pigeons in the park.
Wandering lonely along the path.
How sweet it was, flowers in the rain.
She breaks up the crusts; Her daily ritual.
Scattered, they are quickly gone.
Happiness is felt. Her job is done.
She easily forgets where she has been.
She remembers the park Sixty years ago.
Especially in Winter, covered in snow.
Nevertheless, all thats now changed.
Property came and took most of it.
Now teenagers race through not giving a shit!