Autumn

There she sat on the wooden park bench,

She was in no hurry,

She had the perfect company,


The trees had been held in Autumns' loving embrace,

The bareness of the park ground,

Decorated with orange and red,

Her eyes,

Focused,

Piercing through every drop of rain,

She unclenched her hand,

Caressed the rain,

With the tips of her fingers,

She was reminded of him.

Again and again,

She thought,

What could have been.

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