Central Park at Sunset

This place is haunted, I swear
I say with my back turned
To the shadows. There's a hostage
situation developing very quickly.
One mind seized in a hostile takeover.
by rotten, inverted nostalgia.
The kind that delights in reminding you
About who you left behind

There's a mysterious tall be-denimed figure
Hiding in the trees.
A bespectacled angel in a floral dress
Parts the grass in aloof grace

There's a lost soul in the bushes
Smiling shyly from the shadows
With feet that taste of nervous joy
and lips of rose that are desperate to be adored

There's a hazy hologram of silhouettes
Laughing on the horizon
An ancient sunset dichotomy
Years later, I'm still watching.

Still waiting.