2

The park

The long shadows stretch their fingers.
The sun on my back warms the bench.
The quiet rumble of traffic –
A background to my thoughts

Remembering the last time
We sat here just like this.
Your bright eager smile masking
An endearing nervousness.

You asked for help to reach your dream.
Help you no longer need.
As my actions echo that day,
My mind is drawn out

To you seated on a bench –
Maybe, remembering me.

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