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Dec 6
I do nothing but sit on this old park bench
Rusty, much like me
As the prime life I had, done came and went
Like a tattered leaf on a Winters breeze

How long now I've lost count
As the world passes me by
No longer chained to the fast lane
Or the corporate ladder I once tried to climb  

Now with plenty of room for a conversation or two
Of the few who catch my eye
I invite them to sit but they're usually quick
To move along with their own busy lives

I find it odd now at the sights and sounds
I never seemed to notice before
Guess it comes with the gray AKA old age
Just ask the pigeons and squirrels

With shortened days at best about all I have left
I'm given time to think about
Old memories that keep haunting me
Like a *** looking for a handout

As I do nothing but sit on this lonely park bench
Shivering to the Winter breeze
Waiting for death to reach out his hand
And grab ahold of me, as I no longer seem to be in need
Mike Hauser
Written by
Mike Hauser  Sunny Florida
(Sunny Florida)   
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