She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date. <br />Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt. <br />A third draws aimless patterns in the dirt <br />Someone she loved once passed by – too late <br /> <br />to feign indifference to that casual nod. <br />“How nice” et cetera. “Time holds great surprises.” <br />From his neat head unquestionably rises <br />a small balloon…”but for the grace of God…” <br /> <br />They stand a while in flickering light, rehearsing <br />the children’s names and birthdays. “It’s so sweet <br />to hear their chatter, watch them grow and thrive, ” <br />she says to his departing smile. Then, nursing <br />the youngest child, sits staring at her feet. <br />To the wind she says, “They have eaten me alive.”<br /><br />Gwen Harwood<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-park-5/
