I wandered Golden Gate Park,
On one of the most perfect days.
The air was clear,
With my mind in a haze.

The park was almost empty.
Few people walked,
Kids played games.
I stopped to listen, a young man talked.

He bored me, so I continued on.
I saw another man singing a song.
I stopped and watched him.
I sat and sang along.

A small breeze blew.
It lifted his notes into the air.
His voice carried with them.
It made a tale so clear and fair.

I lay in the grass,
While my mind wandered.
Some said it was great,
Others time squandered.

To this day, I fondly remember
That day, I listened to a song that scored.
It was a concert from the man,
Who wrote "My Sweet Lord."