A Park Parked Aside
Words by Sheenam Sharma
I was once an amusement, now an excusement…
With rusty benches and dusty old swings,
Persevering on the sidelines of a windy long road…
My grounds have lost its fervour,
Like how the tree leaves are losing their colour…
Logs of wood turning grey,
Huge black stones too old to guide the way…
Water stands still from the last rain,
Oh, how it reminds me of the isolating pain…
Of having no one to puddle,
While my purpose has come to a muddle…
But all I am is a park,
Waiting for the next steps of a lark…
