Descriptive Piece of Writing: The Park

The first 200 words of this essay...

Descriptive Piece of Writing: The Park

Wandering through the park, engulfed by my thick coat, I stare around me with disgust. The once green and beautiful park is now grey and boring; damaged by youths. However, the park is the place where I can just come and think: it's quiet and peaceful and I feel free; away from the bustle and noise of the city.

There is a chill breeze in the air, therefore most people are inside their warm houses, clustering round their coal fires, but this is when I like it best. To me, wrapped up in layers and scarves, it only feels fresh, not cold and I can think better when I'm alone.

I stare at the climbing frame, once bright and colourful with a shiny slide, but now the only colour is the dull rusty red of the metal and the black of the graffiti covering it. My eyes glaze over while I reminisce about happier times spent on the climbing frame, and how I used to fly through the air, aided by the monkey bars, just like a chimpanzee swinging through a tree.

The trees in the park creak and groan