The trees in the park shimmer,

Everywhere, an even green,

the sunshine- clandestine!

 Formless lovers on rickety park benches;

leaves slither amid

supine, mass strewn, lawns,

Children run,

 past old swearing men

Summer draws them all in...

The faint music of a pipe

pulls me inward --

There, by an old stone pool

sits a piper...

People pass,

none look his way--

holding mobiles, bikes,

-- chasing dreams

Children lost, in Life's maze...

In all that shunning,

he pipes his song

unmindful,

eyes closed.

Serene.

Composure in a fevered world.

A few small coins

dot the open case.

Is this all he plays for?

If you can close your eyes,

he will take you places,

You can ride the wave of his dreams.

He dreams,

Only, not like you and me;

He smiles as he knows the truth,

Life is never drawn,

With your own crayon.

I stop and revere

the unaffirmed sage.

I listen,

as the music stills the senses.

Life is still,

the world is still,

in that moment-

I know peace...