The weeping willow’s green curtain beckons souls who want to hide, yet still be outside. But merengue and the smell of barbeque float from the other side of the park. The bookworm waits for someone to speak her language before deciding.
Footfalls keep the beat
while Spanglish sings over the park
coaxing me to join.
Song Choice: Sube las Manos Pa' Arriba by Pitbull
This poem was created for Verse Escape's Friday 55 It is also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry 383.