Black Partridge Park Poem by Pirate Thief

The old park bears the shiny new buildings
with an ungainly grace
like a grandmother
who tolerates the girl's tiarra
just long enough for the picture to be taken.
But behind her quiet eyes
she wishes for the soft folds
of her old robe.
Or better yet,
the simple gray stole
she wore on summer nights
when she was young,
and the trees
were the only friends she knew.