An Afternoon In The Park Poem by Debi Gray

Sitting agianst a tree, on the broen and gray sand,

I stare at the dying weeds and blooming flowers.

Litle palm-fronds surround me, fanning out like hands reaching for a drink.

Hard, smooth acorns strewn about on the ground invade my comfort,

making the ground sharp.

Flowers burst with color, blooming,

spreading pleasant fragrance towards me.

As I sit, fresh air blows across my skin, a gentle breeze,

tickling my face.

Brittle leaves and grainy dirt rub against my shoes as I get up to leave.

AS I walk away, I hear branches falling, dropping to the ground,

and then silence.