Winter in LA, no one in the park,
Trees alive in sunlight, soundless and still.
Their radiant blooms await another's sickness.
The birds complain from perches far away.
I've walked these black brick paths in circles
Never finding what was needed,
A respite for my mind, solutions to the differences
Between us ...
So unimportant now,
As if a change in wind changes it all.
Yet still there are the crimson flowers shaking,
Like thoughts forgotten, waving madly in the void.
