Rittenhouse Square

I love to romanticize my surroundings.

The birds are chirping, the sun is shining

the Jazz music is floating through the air in the park,

dancing from the mouthes of brass trumpets.

A little boy kicks a grey ball, puling me out of my cloudy, warm haze.

It lands right at my feet, and I give it a kick back over, chuckling.

I then notice that the benches in the park all have metal arm rests that separate the middle of each one.

I wonder why, so I pull out my phone to Google it.

When I scroll through the answers, it makes me sad.

My dream apartment building looms over the park,

shading some of the grass just a few feet beyond my bench,

which sits nicely in between the oak trees.

There is a soft spot in my heart for Walnut Street.

On my way out, I pass the Jazz musicians playing and a

crowd of happy people smiling around them,

some of the couples even dancing.

Everyone content, and delirious in the heat.

Throwing their heads back in laughter, holding their loved ones tightly amidst the sweat mark growing on their backs.

Joining together in a community under the sun, in the enrapture of a beautiful Sunday.

I can't wait to be in love here.