What was once a splendor of color fades to black and white. I don't hear the children playing anymore, and someone finally silenced the ice cream truck. My bench is cold and empty as pigeons fight for the seeds that fall from my pocket, and the playground, once filled with screams of joy, is just glimpses of yesterday re-lived one last time. Through worn-out eyes, I can see shadows of people passing by, most keeping their stares hidden. I don't want their pity, as my life needs no apologies from anyone but me. Everyone grows old, and with it comes wisdom and confusion, all mixed in the same mind that plays one against the other. I believe tomorrow is Sunday, and I'll walk slowly to the church and kneel in front of the only one who can answer my questions. I will see clearly there, and colors will be vibrant until I walk back outside into the shadows of black and white.
MO
