by Doug McIntire
I sat lonely on the hard wooden bench. The sun did little to quench the autumn chill, forcing me to clench my jacket tightly about me. Brown and yellow leaves littered the park, strewn about by the wisps of fickle wind. People strolled by though I barely noticed, lost in my thoughts as I was. And as dusk descended, I arose and left the memory of you in a place we’d once shared. I will see you tomorrow.
Doug McIntire lives online here.