What's good ma?

I sit in the middle of the park.
Amongst the trees and wild flowers: Man-made Eden.

I'm contemplative. Pensive even. The cries of a lonely sax accompany my thoughts. Hans Zimmer could not have orchestrated a more fitting soundtrack.

The wind sings in harmony with the birds. The rustle of the leaves serve as the lesser known members of nature's boy band. Jesus must be JT.

I glance around and notice another person sitting. Writing. Is he better than me? No. Couldn't be. I am cocky and confident. I'm me and he's he. On a scale of one to me, with me equaling greatness, he'd be a four. No, wait. A two.

Children bike by with their moms.
I miss her.

The sun is setting. Hues of blue and streaks of pink mix together to paint the sky whatever color it may be. Plue? Bink? Either or - it's pretty.

Don't look directly at the sun.
It's blinding.
I do it anyways.

Shadows have now entered puberty. Growth spurts abound. They sway to and fro: fearless: the swagger of youth emancipated on the sidewalk.

These 3 old ladies run by. Struggling.
Disturbing my serenity with their... um... elderliness.

I wonder if they used to be hot...