Old Man On The Bench

A tree hung overhead, as the branches reached out stretched,
It was Summer time and the birds sang as the old man sat on the bench.
The water from the fountains rushed out without a care,
As the millions of rushing business people ran everywhere.
Orange and Red filled the sky,
As the leaves of the branches, slowly began to die.
The rushes of people began to ease,
As the cold came quickly, beginning with a breeze.
Snow flakes fell so peacefully as they landed on a branch,
While the old man, with a beanie sat on the bench.
The crowds of people were not rushing today,
It was cold and wet, not the business way.
Soon the warm sun rose from behind the skyscrapers,
As the old man sat on the bench, he watched the flowers.
The colours began, pink, yellow and green,
Except the old mans hair, which stayed a white sheen.

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