sitting on the park bench
the gentle breeze brushing past her freckled cheeks
the rustling leaves seem to whisper greetings in her ears
as she sits on the warm seat
she waits
across from her,
stands a lone boy on the speckled path
tall and built an image of strength and protection
looking and seeking
he waits
now the wait is over
and she is holding the bouquet he got for her
holding hands;
they just look out at the life they have ahead of them
together
No comments:
Post a Comment