What Is To Come

She sits on the park bench a flock of pigeons carrying her memories away. An unleashed dog sat with her a while Left to chase a squirrel The well-dressed pass her by As if she wasn’t there. A child in a carriage Gives her a “queenly” wave, She listens, Eavesdrops As Fall whispers Scattered secrets To fallen leaves. She sits, alone but not lonely For she knows who she is Rejoices in what was Awaits What is to come.