Back to the Park

 Painted Grey, 

Through winds exchanged

Every breeze greets-

Small arms, and drive-ways

Standing at the hill

Forget the flame,

Etched-charcoal, traces plain

Back to rocken ridge.

So we stare-

With wicked tears

Face first in

Grievance..

Who shall happen,

Across a wandering field? 

In the byways

Passers yield,

Our sunsets flicker

In every blink..

Back-to-the-car.

eye's swept,

A burning feel

Along the yard.

Acceptance, 

No complaints,

In the miles we deal.

Memories, so far away...

Who could say,

Facing it all?