When you look,
What do you see?
For me,


It’s the children playing
The gentle stride from the passer-by,
Rolling hills where they go flying,
The lawns manufactured symmetrically
Beneath the seat,
Where they all meet

Near those busy streets,
Tucked away from
All who say
“Come and meet your fate”
Instead I propose,
While I’m writing prose
Come sit here a while,
Dream with me.

Now I will ask you again,
What do you see?