It was another hot summer’s day and
I, with the small amount of change in my pocket
was journeying towards to the local park
in efforts to create a more fulfilling afternoon.
On the way to the park I
had to pass Mulberry Lane, with its shoddy Bus Stop.
Graffiti littered the benches and a man
sat, silent, a cigarette hanging in his mouth.
Me being me, looked away, staring downward
and rushing past, holding my breath as I passed through
the fog of smoke, wispy, tinged blue,
curling around my body as I walked away.
After the afternoon had passed and the
sun began to set, once again I walked past the
Mulberry Lane Bus Stop, the man sat,
still smoking, but with the hint of whisky.
When I returned home, my mother asked
“How was your day?”, and me being me, did not
tell her about the man at the
Mulberry Lane Bus Stop, with smoke surrounding him.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
It was another hot summer’s day and
I, with the small amount of change in my pocket
was journeying towards to the local park
in efforts to create a more fulfilling afternoon.
On the way to the park I
had to pass Mulberry Lane, with its shoddy Bus Stop.
Graffiti littered the benches and a man
sat, silent, a cigarette hanging in his mouth.
Me being me, looked away, staring downward
and rushing past, holding my breath as I passed through
the fog of smoke, wispy, tinged blue,
curling around my body as I walked away.
After the afternoon had passed and the
sun began to set, once again I walked past the
Mulberry Lane Bus Stop, the man sat,
still smoking, but with the hint of whisky.
When I returned home, my mother asked
“How was your day?”, and me being me, did not
tell her about the man at the
Mulberry Lane Bus Stop, with smoke surrounding him.
