Fresh

Sat, 01/25/2020 - 20:20 -- Jg261

Stroll through the park

dew on the freshly cut grass and yellow

glimmering on the path. The smell of the sun

mixed with the Pacific coast breeze. 

Every year, every season, every month, and every day

life presents itself on the same old path.

It is the way to go on. 

As the concrete cracks and ages, 

the plants remain, proving humanity the very cycle

of hardship and perserverance. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741