the park at night
The sun sets and the city,
Ceaselessly in motion, is shaded blue
There is a triangle shaped park
Where trees protect the sacred ground
From the speed of the pavement world
In the darkness you have to strain
To see the resting ones on benches,
And others in clusters, talking, seeking warmth
They are shadows in the deep blue calm,
Who go unnoticed by the wakeful night life
If perceived, they are avoided
They say “Stay away from the park at dusk”,
Because people fear the unknown
And in the busy D.C. madness
Few have time to know anything but routine
But if, by chance, one finds the time
Or if, by choice, they make the time
Perhaps the scales would fall from their eyes
So they would not see looming shadows,
But rather Steve, Whistle-man, and Angel Perry
They come from all over
Different regions of the city, of the nation
Some are victims of gambling and drugs
Some have simply had more than their share
Of misfortune and tragedy
They have lost luck and money,
They have lost homes and loved ones,
They have been abused and dehumanized
But they understand the things
That others are too distracted to see
Michael escaped the social trap
From which few break free
But when the sun sinks into the blue shadows
He returns to his brethren in the park
To say hello, or just sit a while
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