At 6 a.m. or thereabouts
I walk past Peter Pan,
A lovely statue in the park
Of which I am a fan.
That early, I am oft alone
When I go strolling by,
But not today, for in the air
I heard the softest sigh
Of melody and on a bench
A man with a guitar
Was strumming, just for Peter,
His sole audience so far.
He didn’t even glance my way
As I believed he might
But the music and the moment
Made an early day delight.
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