Bench. A smooth breeze brushes my face and stiffens my hand. Light burns the underside of bridges, while a lost train cries out, screeching in lonely desperation. Passers grate a sandy sidewalk and clouds wait low in the distance; their hues almost blending with the thick horizon. Planes crawl, carried in the glacier of the sky. All frozen into the portrait of today. Refuse to take notice of the rain. Sat still, as I waited for someone to fill in the space. I picked myself up from this spot and left the old ties. This bench. #prose #writer 📖✍🏻

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