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.
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