white wolf
|
The parkThe man in the park walks his dog.
Night and day he walks this way
Shufflles along coller to the wind.
He takes for granted the flowers planted
He fails to see the tall oak tree.
The call of the birds
The buzz of the bee
The magpies chatter
It does not matter.
It does not astound him
For he cannot see
The beauty that surounds him.
ww
|
