There is an old bench
it needs to be painted
hidden and unloved
at the foot of a dying palm
There is a young girl
who needs to be comforted
wandering and restless
through the summer grass
There is a night sky
too many miles away
full of artic white stars
which I cannot see;
Knees drawn to chest
sitting quietly upon the bench
squinting through the clouds
I wonder if you're sleeping
peacefully
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