I sit on this wooden bench,
from here i can see the trees,
Green and big, some dead.
Perhaps because the others,
Luscious as they are,
Took away all of their food.

The grass grows in patches.
Some big, others small.
Brown, green, yellow patches.
Some patches are not even grass,
Others try too hard.

Right, her dress had patches.
Purple, blue, black, red patches.

I see people running, skating, biking.
How she loved to run, skate, and bike.
She used to enjoy skating more than life,
Well, skating was her life.
People here are so nice,
not a minute goes by without someone saying 'good morning.'

I met her one morning,
In this same park actually
She was one of those skaters i now see.
Oh man he failed on the 360,
Oh well maybe next time.

She's gone notw though,
I don't see her skate any more.
She moved to New York i think.
She hated it here.

Enough!

The flowers are in full bloom,
Red ones, white ones, even multicolored ones.
We used to smell the flowers,
We still smell the flowers.

She's with me all the time,
In memory at least.
How nice it would be
If she were physically here

She would sit beside me holding my hand.
Smile, we would go and smell the flowers.
Perhaps go out for tea, she hates coffee.
I would pay of course.
She would get mad because i never let her pay.

That squirrel has a fussy tail,
And that dog has a funny smell.

It is time for me to go,
The day is growing old.
I would love to bring her
To the coffee house near my apartment.
They serve the best cinnamon cake.

We would sit there, eyes upon each other.
Coffee please.
Our faces would meet and create a wonderful sight,
and we would never be apart.

We would live in this small apartment,
even if it only has four walls,
and lined with foam.