Woman on the Bench

Why do you sit there,

All alone on that red bench.

Your pale face blends in with the cigarette

smoke coming from your mouth.

•

Your hair is slightly wet,

Sticking to your head.

Probably from a shower you took

Just before you left your home.

•

Your eyes gaze at nothing,

But as if there is something there.

I can tell by your demeanor your mind is

black, void of any thought.

•

Why do you sit there,

All alone on that red bench.

Does that cigarette warm your

Body on this cold morning?

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