The Park

I see a little girl,

About the age of seven. 

She's with her older brother, 

Who's age looks eleven. 

They're all by themselves,

Playing on the swing. 

I can smell the apple blossoms, 

Blooming this spring.

If I were to look around, 

All I would see are trees. 

So instead I breathe the air, 

And enjoy the cool, spring breeze.

As I'm sitting on this bench, 

Under a light grey sky. 

I enjoy the sight of raindrops, 

As they fall from up high. 



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