On a stroll through the park,
Many things are heard.
The faint giggling as children play,
Coupled with the chirping of exuberant birds,
Singing their enchanting tunes.
The soft melodious plodding of bare feet in the dewy grass,
Saturated with day old rainwater.
The distant sound of honking horns,
Impatient in a ceaseless line of traffic,
Many things which one encounters,
The deep, fear-instilling buzzing of bees,
Activating many from their trance-like state.
While children wail with self-pity,
Knees split open from dangerous and numerous escapades.
The enchanting scenery fades in and out,
While the plenitude of sounds slowly surrounds you.
Many things are heard.
The faint giggling as children play,
Coupled with the chirping of exuberant birds,
Singing their enchanting tunes.
The soft melodious plodding of bare feet in the dewy grass,
Saturated with day old rainwater.
The distant sound of honking horns,
Impatient in a ceaseless line of traffic,
Many things which one encounters,
The deep, fear-instilling buzzing of bees,
Activating many from their trance-like state.
While children wail with self-pity,
Knees split open from dangerous and numerous escapades.
The enchanting scenery fades in and out,
While the plenitude of sounds slowly surrounds you.