We go to the park when it's raining
And sit at a table and dream
When no one is ‘prancing’ near
We like watching sun's dieing beams
We go to the park when it's dreary
And stroll at a comfortable pace
When no one's crowding the walkways
The park's our favorite place
We go to the park when it's cooling
And light up a warm cigarette
When kids aren't making a racket
The temperature is never a threat
We walk to the park when lights out
And dark calls in elves to play
We like our park when nights out
And no one swings the swing set
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem