A Walk in the Park
Down a trodden, dusty trail which
  has been travelled much over the years
Grooves cut into the worn path by countless
    years of rain and snow
        Winding downhill, straight, then up
    Every so often grass is crushed as passersby
                Stop for a picnic
A sweet pine scent almost suffocating and down
the trail children scream, attaking each other
        with the cones found littering the earth
      Falling, splitting, growing, as the cycle starts
        anew

    Farther down a dusty trail, overgrown with underbrush
vines catching and thorns
      scratching as the travellers wonder why they came
this far
            The sound of ocean waves
      draws them futher.  They cannot
see from whence they came and they
Have no choice but to continue on.
  Hands, already scratched, continue to part the brush
      as burrs and weeds attach themselves
For the ride
Stumbling, falling, breaking
          free onto a sandy shore
  Pebbles, small and
       smooth colelct, gather, concentrate at the water's
Edge as they are lapped at...Then, the journey home.