Lake Ontario Park
And turn my head just so
The colours of the leaves
Blend with the blue of the sky.
This is my favourite place.
There are no demanding voices,
No harsh words,
Just the sound of the wind in the trees.
I could die here.
My spirit blending with the oak above me
Or floating like a leaf out to the lake to ride upon the waves.
Sometimes I hear the echo of voices,
I don’t understand them,
But I can hear their essence.
Like anger or love in a foreign movie.