Central Park

This city’s heart beats.

Car horns and sirens

Pulsate on the edge of this verdant tranquility.

 

I gaze at the fence’s swiveling spindles,

Which provide a barrier between Strawberry fields

And the avenues.

Heaven and earth.

 

Shifting my eyes to the salt and pepper tiles of the walkway

Garnished in marigolds the color of orange peels and lemonade,

I quench my mind’s thirst to Imagine.

 

You can find me nestled into the brick stairs

That snake around Bethesda Fountain,

Where the sun acquaints herself with the Angel of the Waters.

 

Or by the painter who’s always here,

Capturing the day for all its worth in swimming hues

That carry me beyond the concrete

That my worn boots have befriended.

 

Listen closely, and you can hear the sound of two lovers kissing

Or the crisp flit of a page turn

Only to find out that your happiness lies somewhere in between this haven

And the bustle.

 

But even though the people here

May come and go like the billowing clouds above

Or the taxis on 5^th avenue,

Comfort burrows its heart in the city’s core

And spreads its remains in the form of serenity

Right here.