Ryan McNicholas


Central Park - Poem by Ryan McNicholas

The boy stood,
gripping ther rusty chains,
of the decomposing swing.

And watches the awkward,
warm breeze of September,
Dance among the vibrant green,
leaves of the oak tree.

Glances up toward the now,
Ruby red, and orange fall sunset,
And sees an independent cloud,
Dissolve in the sky,
Like carnival cotton candy,
To the mouth.

As if for one time,
In his short lived,
immature life,
the world was finnally,
At peace, even for that one,
ordinary fall minute.

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Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening



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Poem Submitted: Friday, October 10, 2008



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