At the Park
by Bryan MilesJust sitting on the bench
I listened with intent,
There in the midst
The children came and went;
Scurrying through the monkey bars
Gliding on a swing,
The songs of the children
That no one else can sing;
Seated beside me
A man began to talk,
On two different paths
Our lives were taking a walk;
His demeanor was friendly
His words, very kind
His eyes smiled through his glasses
Though I sensed that he was blind;
Blind to the fact
That Jesus is the way,
Someone I was listening to
That God put in my day;
Someone he knew interrupted us
And they began to talk,
Two different lives
Walking the same walk!
My attention turned to a couple
Weathered and wrinkled of age,
I wondered where they were in life?
What knowledge, and what stage?
I heard them speak my Savior's name
In some not so flattering terms,
Wounded words that fill the heart
Spreading it, like germs!
A little girl stuck in a tree
Hollered for her dad,
I thought of those around me
My heart was broken and sad;
If only they'd call out to God
He would come in much the same way,
I gained alot of wisdom,
From listening that day!
My eyes fell back on the children
And their innocence of play,
Someone I was listening to
That God put in my day;
Scurrying through the monkey bars
Gliding on a swing,
The songs of the children
That no one else can sing;
They tottered on the see-saw
And rallied down the slide,
There I sat, a different man
Listening inside;
Listening inside myself
Like a light turned on in the dark,
I gained a lot of wisdom
When I listened, at the park...
