a gentle stroll

brooklyn's goodwill

sitting alone on this chilled bench does something to you. calamity roaring from the tracks left behind. you see a child and her mother, both enjoying their innocent peace. complicating the mood is the underlying dread. it’s thought to be colored a harmless gray slithering across the untouched landscape.

a tree’s breath melding with the brisk cold. houses wrestling the families back into their warm embrace. in that time your company was whisked away, leaving their memory staring at you. now you’re there mulling the past time under the infinite sky.