THE EMPTY PARK
You returned in the still quiet to
Dyker Beach Park and sat in the
Glare of broad daylight
Under the old night street light.
You lost parts of yourself as I did
When moments tumbled away
When so many of us went away.
That was the place where the
Chipped pieces of our button candy
Melted into washed swirls of abstract art …
Where yesterday’s bumpy seesaw,
Broken now, points to a tired and
Rusty jungle gym where you chased me
As if catching me would be a brass ring.
The benches where the old grandmas sat
And gossiped about the cuckold
Are empty now and dirty snow has
Collected on the path where strollers
Stood at attention waiting to be pushed
All the way home.
You returned for seven days:
As if sitting shiva would
Give you sweet solace and comfort
And bring you closer to
Something that once was.
© 2020 Marjorie J. Levine
No comments:
Post a Comment