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Description
In Central Park, where city sleeps, a llama walks at dawn. Past Bethesda's angel, down winding paths, its silhouette is drawn. It strolls by the pond, ducks barely stirring, and crosses the Great Lawn. The city’s hum a distant murmur, yet the llama moves unworn. Chess players, joggers, none take notice, their focus elsewhere drawn. By Bow Bridge and Alice's statue, it wanders like a fawn. A fleeting myth in New York's heart, it vanishes at morn. Thus goes the tale, from Uptown to Midtown, of a llama at dawn.

Description
In Central Park, where city sleeps, a llama walks at dawn. Past Bethesda's angel, down winding paths, its silhouette is drawn. It strolls by the pond, ducks barely stirring, and crosses the Great Lawn. The city’s hum a distant murmur, yet the llama moves unworn. Chess players, joggers, none take notice, their focus elsewhere drawn. By Bow Bridge and Alice's statue, it wanders like a fawn. A fleeting myth in New York's heart, it vanishes at morn. Thus goes the tale, from Uptown to Midtown, of a llama at dawn.