Parveen Khan

Sitting here on a bench -made of a wood- old trees- it must have had a life.
Central park or perk to some.
People rushing in suits made to tight- joggers trying to live a healthy life but never knowing what they will step on.

Hot drink in hand and a book on my lap.
Watching New Yorkers bright eyed, blue, black, brown, green, blonde strands of hair, afro highs, sweat dripping sour and raw.

Never really felt at home in this concrete jungle of whirring machines and rain that burns the skin.
I dream of days – long gone for me- stepping on wet grass- feeling tickled at my ankles and the freshness of the air, cool and gentle flowing through my spread hands.

And here I sit watching people, watching a togetherness of nature and the new world, Things can turn good or bad, black or red.
A day in someone’s life, what had they seen today- ah who had they loved today.

My love seen this morning Wrapped around a warm duvet Cosy
Sweet smelling

Warm
Makes my mind at ease Inviting and intoxicating

Sitting on this bench- waiting a realisation

Love
My love
Will come with hot drink in hand and a book And a smile capturing this day

Love-