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poetry about life
the old man
he sits there on his bench.
he watches the people walk by.
he's waiting for someone.
someone to come
and take him to where he belongs.
who is it he's waiting for?
a long lost love?
a young grandchild?
a devoted wife?
or maybe someone else.
as i watch, he dusts off his coat.
he straightens his tie.
he plays with his cufflinks.
he checks his watch.
and he continues to stare into the crowd.
that's how i leave him.
content on his bench.
content to wait and wait.
for someone to arrive
and take him to where he belongs.
--xwatergirlx
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