On a park bench.
In the city of circumstance,
Feeding pigeons of poverty,
Dreaming, of a soft cover harlequin romance.
Watching the passers by,
Making up stories for their lives.
I laugh to myself,
As I wonder, how I seem to someone else.
A month ago today,
I took a train to a better life,
And I worked to survive.
Music, taking a space on the back shelf of my mind.
Scraps of paper fill my pockets,
Ideas in rhyme.
They’re scattered, but they’re mine.
I look at some faces here,
What did they leave behind,
Their eyes say they tried,
A cup of coffee, tells a story here.
It’s a night out.
It feeds my imagination.
Here on my park bench,
I can still smile,
Because the vibes are strong yet,
And I’ve just arrived.