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WHITNEY COMMON

by ABBIE JOHNSON TAYLOR


I walk along the smooth sidewalk.

my long white cane rolls from side to side in front of me.

There are no cars

but lush, green lawns, benches,

trees in the first stages of growth.

The scent of newly mown grass permeates the air.

I hear the cries of children as they swing, slide, play in the fountain.

Its gurgle, inviting on a hot day,

provides a sense of peace.

I’d rather walk here than through the city streets.