Cinquante deux

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I sat on a bench at the park,
beneath the withering trees in autumn.
I waited for your return in my pale floral dress, block heels and a hat.
I felt the presence of winter
and its chills reminded me of your absence.
Patiently I watched as the flowers fell
and landed limply on the floor like a fallen soldier.
I watched as the breeze swept it away without a moment's thought.
I was beginning to get cold,
winter had come yet my heart still had a fiery furnace.
My eyes mirrored an ice cone but if you shattered the walls,
you'd see the blazing passion alive and well.
I waited patiently and soon enough,
I became the leaves that fell limply only this time,
I was no hero. I would be forgotten.
Stomped on like the ice that covers rivers in winter and everyone forgets the water beneath but skates on the ice confidently.

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