Sitting on a Bench

A little girl sits with her back straight on a bench,

her rust colored hair put into a braid,

the wind plays with loose strands which she gives up on trying to keep behind her ears,

she holds her bag across her shoulder patiently,

no one sits next to her,

she looks young, but her innocent eyes

hold more history than they should,

she stares at the sky and the landscape,

but never the people,

she likes it better when they do not notice her,

she holds this image of her former self,

trying to relive it for a few minutes,

alone,

she waits for someone,

she doesn’t know whom,

but someone to take her away,

to another, more magical place,

but no one comes.

She sits on a bench, now slouching,

her eyes have hardened and she looks older,

she sets her bag beside her and rests her head on her hand,

tapping her foot she waits for anyone who will pick her up

for she has things to do.

She sits on a bench, now legs and arms crossed,

looking sad and thoughtful,

knowing that she has lost something that she can never get back,

she stops waiting,

and sits on the bench for her own purpose,

to figure out what to do next.

She could follow the sidewalk or the people,

she could go into one of the buildings or walk around the city,

she stands up with a sigh,

knowing that she is on her own,

that no one is coming,

but also that she could take herself to new places and meet new people.

She picks up her bag and starts walking towards the city,

she holds herself with more confidence, but still quiet,

people don’t notice her, but she doesn’t feel invisible,

she knows that she won’t ever be able to go back to the way things were before,

she will miss them from time to time,

but she is a stronger person than a little girl sitting on a bench,

waiting for someone to come and whisk her away.

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