Monday, February 27, 2012

A Cold Evening in Central Park

A poem I wrote when I was 17 for a creative writing class. That’s when I paid particular attention to literary devices. I actually never submitted it, but if I did I it have been titled, "A Cold Evening in Central Park." Yay for originality!


T’is a cold evening in Central Park

Stangers huddled in the dark

From rich gentlemen and poor peasants

They all cheer for joy to her warm presence

For although the wind sends a chilling blow

Heated hearts allow for them not to go

To see her skate along the glass of ice

A reminder of our lost Paradise

Her skin a compliment to Guinevere

Though she knowes’t her maker and revere

Golden hair kept up and show shoulders strong

She leaps in the air as music and song

With light from the lamp post bright’ning her smile

As well her heart that stretches for miles

She looks to the sky with her hazel eyes

And jumps with more pride and complete surprise

As the glow from the moon shines on her face

She receives gifts of both mercy and grace

So as the snow falls and this night we mark

Lest we forget she who skates at Central Park

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