Loneliness

Imagine a solitary bench in a park. You are sitting there surrounded with rotten elders. Doing nothing. Simply watching kids and lovers. Occasionally a bird will fly over your head. Adoring the beauties of the nature. Your bench is also a rotten one, moss inflicted it damp sides, a fly rests its ugly wings to the corners. Maybe the opposite bench elder sitter would be munching some peanuts. Doing nothing. Nowhere to go and noone to come. Suddenly you will feel your bushy hair became white. Peanunts in your hand. Whispering wind. With a deep sigh you linger into the bench like a rotten leaf