The Grass Grows
Walking along the sidewalk that trailed through the beauty of Central Park, my mind wanders to you. How are you doing? I hope you're doing well. That's all I want, is for you to be well. I don't want to say happy only because I know I hurt you, and you won't be happy for a while…
Normally, I don't walk alone through Central Park, but being alone, being surrounded by the winter beauty… there's something right about it.
I'm about to leave, ready to go home and rest for the remainder of the afternoon and night… but then I see you.
You're walking your dog, Monkey, and you look dashing in your black suit, red undershirt, and black bowtie. Your bowtie… I remember when it used to be your signature scarf…
You're eyes see me, and I have to stop myself from walking across the grass that is vainly trying to grow. I want to be near you. I want to talk to you. I want to love you.
I can't…
Just as the grass fails to grow… I fail to be able to truly love you…