There is some comfort in the woods

Midst the trees that sway softly

In the eerie silence of the dark

broken oft by buzzing bugs

where such pleasures be now?

In concrete cities’ graying skies

In parks painted by aging eyes

Trees, flowers, they all be

But no muddy unsure paths

that lead to unexpected wonders

Concrete steps of reassurance

exiting to our world of blunders

And yet there some comfort be

even in that hand-drawn nature

for such sweet spots be rare

In concrete cities’ graying skies

Suffice we must with painted lies