He stood alone in Central Park,
Like marble cloaked in bronze.
Unmoving, as the plaster gnomes
That decorate our lawns.

Sometimes the passers by would stop,
And try to make him flinch.
But despite their many efforts,
He never moved an inch.

Some folks would kindly leave a tip,
Within the cup he held.
While others took his tips away,
He never fought or yelled.

He simply stood there in the park,
Cemented in that place.
Nobody ever noticing
The sadness on his face.

He watched the world go speeding by,
As people came and went.
He heard the busy sounds of life,
And wondered what it meant.

And then one day it disappeared,
The busy sounds were gone.
The park was empty once again,
As history moved on.

In time the city was reclaimed,
By Mother nature’s green.
The statue stood by silently,
And watch the changing scene.

Then other men reclaimed the land,
A new city rose up.
And passers by would, once again,
Put money in his cup.

And this went on until the end,
The rise and fall of man.
As empires crumbled to the ground,
New dynasties began.

Until the atmosphere was gone,
And the great oceans dried.
Then he became a tombstone for
A world that slowly died.

He stood alone in Central Park,
Like marble cloaked in bronze.
Unmoving, as the plaster gnomes
That decorate our lawns.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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