The Old Man In the Park

He dressed up his best old shirt As the sun was just showing her face Another walk for his constitution Amongst the human race The park was beginning to come alive With shouts from the softball field As he reached inside his faded shirt pocket And retrieved a half smoked Chesterfield Ah, the music of the songbirds that sang And the smell of someone’s apple pie And the soaring fowl overhead in the air As they glided through the cloudless sky He loved this place on Sunday mornings When players came from all over to play And once he was among these ranks But that’s another story for another day Some think of him as a homeless case And some even says he’s no good at all But he remembers and smiles with glee Of the time he stood straight and tall He traveled across that big old pond But a snipers bullet cut him down in Nam Although he lived, he forgets sometimes He’s no longer attached to Uncle Sam Still, he walks this same old walk And sits on that park bench for a while He then goes back to yesteryears And stays there for awhile