Solitary Retreat
I love to stroll around a park at night,
To get a glimpse of the bright twinkling stars.
For in my flat they are hidden from my sight
I cannot see but parking lots and cars.
The nearest park - for baseball - has a tree,
No needle trees there are, I long for so,
But woods and needle trees are memory
It is shabby park to which I go
,Within this park there only stands one tree
But I can watch the waxing or the waning moon
And all the twinkling stars that I can see
Above the base ball bleachers picayune
The night is still, - a strolling hobo too
Sits in the park and wondering looks at me,
He speaks, and says: Madame how do you do?”
And up surge waves of mutual sympathy
The hobo is a homeless man maybe,
And too takes pleasure in the night to roam,-
I am not homeless but I simply flee,
The empty flat, I cannot call my home
Lo! I fear not, around my neck the keys
Are dangling, clanking loud with every move,
From Coney Island comes a gentle breeze,
And teens are hugging laughing on a roof.
The pocket book I let my bosom be,
A crochet stole wraps tight my waist and back,
No danger there for theft or robbery,
All things that matter hang around my neck
This park is not far off, and so I stroll
and if the sandman comes, I sleep in it,
Refreshing heart and spirit, mind and soul
And to recover daily needed wit
And then I see a star, - my special star,
and feel so deep a solidarity
And oneness Lo!! - with all the things that are,
And get a foretaste of felicity.
© Elizabeth Dandy
