In a Park

In a Park

Sitting in a park
I want to make
Conversations

With the birds, the trees
So I write poetry.

The trees only nod
Their heads, mumble
Rivers running to
Green ocean.

Well, the birds, they
Fly here and there,
Never still
Their hearts.

P.S.: So, this is the one piece I long wanted to write about an afternoon spent in a park. It came to me easy enough. Sometimes, this ease occurs after much reading and writing. As if the emotion has brimmed, before overflowing. Note that I have used the phrase "Green ocean" a few times, but this is best suited.