October 24, 2017

Barren are the streets I walk,
As the cold gently caresses my face and the slumbering city.
Alone was I on the path of memories
Heated from the argument with my mother
Who sought to keep me from the world’s solemn embrace
Wearily I crossed the feeble outskirts
Worn from traffic, beaten by storms.
Only when I sat at the park bench did I see,
The spirit of the Veteran Memorial Park stare silently at me
Then and there as I wrote
I Transcended to a much higher place.
Above the storm, above my sorrows
I was reborn

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