The Park
The cicadas sing their evening ballad,
as the fiery red sun becomes nothing but a
glow, behind the
slowly swaying trees,
while the crickets sing the melody.
The bench is littered with cigarette butts.
the much too small jungle gym covered
in graffiti and
firecracker marks.
As the swings sway in tandem with the breeze
The sound of cars is constant,
and calming as dusk subtly evolves into night.
the fireflies come out,
putting on their nightly show.
I sit between the road and a forest,
Not knowing what side beacons me more.
Seemingly forced to make a choice,
But I am content to sit and admire both
I really like how you contrast the forest with the worn down park, its a cool comparison. The way you describe both gives me a good idea of how one is natural and beautiful while the other is worn-down and abused. The line "The sound of cars is constant" carried into the line "and calming as dusk subtly evolves into night." is a little confusing, so i would change it to "The sound of cars is constant and calming/ As dusk subtly evolves into night."
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