The Little Park Between the Streets Verse 1 There’s a little park between the streets, where city noise begins to fade. A bench that’s worn from all the years, a path the evening shadows made. Kids are running in the daylight, pigeons circle overhead. And every passerby leaves something — a thought, a smile, a word unsaid. Chorus In the little park between the streets, the city learns to breathe, a quiet place where stories rest beneath the autumn leaves. And every night the lights come on, soft and bittersweet, in the little park between the streets. Verse 2 An old man feeds the birds at dusk, he’s been here longer than the trees. He hums a tune from long ago that drifts along the evening breeze. A couple sits beside the fountain, hands entwined like they belong. And somewhere near the rusted gate a stranger writes a half‑done song. Chorus In the little park between the streets, the city learns to breathe, a quiet place where stories rest beneath the autumn leaves. And every night the lights come on, soft and bittersweet, in the little park between the streets. Bridge Maybe places hold our memories, maybe corners keep our dreams. And when we walk away at midnight, they stay behind in silent scenes. Final Chorus In the little park between the streets, the city learns to breathe, a quiet place where stories rest beneath the autumn leaves. And every night the lights come on, soft and bittersweet, in the little park between the streets.
