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Open Poetry #23

The Park Bench

Tim
Senior Member

since 1999-06-08

Posts 1794

0 posted 2002-12-03 11:58 PM

He sat hunched over at the end of the park bench at the other end of the park as the sound of the streets snaked down darkened paths permeating the darkness destroying the stillness of the night. He wore a grey Fedora. The trees, blackened by the night, having long since shed their green, stood watch over the park and its darkened paths unable to stop the creep of the city before it enveloped him and the grey Fedora perched atop his balding head. The noise of the streets bore countless tales of yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows within its incessant bustle. Beneath the grey Fedora were buried countless tales of yesterdays.

Dark Angel
Member Patricius

since 1999-08-04

Posts 10095

1 posted 2002-12-04 04:29 AM

I really enjoyed this, the imagery was great.

Maree

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