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| Central Park Carousel, New York City |
We sat in Central Park
without speaking,
waiting for her ashes
across from the carousel,
not yet open for the season,
the hand-carved horses,
enameled and gleaming,
powerful mid-gallop,
caught motionless.
What was there to say?
The city turned around us,
teenagers on skates,
pretty women smiling
for the sketch artist,
young toughs lighting up
under the stone bridge,
and beyond the peopled benches,
shouts from the ballfield
where men on their lunch hour
fought over a call.
Morning became afternoon.
The day warmed.
Couples held hands
at the hotdog stand
under new leaves.
We were together.
What was there to say?
We were all together.
