Park Bench
Breezing by, next stop in mind,
Halted by a sad city design.
Art this is not, not of any kind.
The people suffering, self inflicted some, but I still find.
A beauty inside the outward signs,
For I recognize beauty, amongst the glaring binds;
That these people share, in the chairs they deem divine.
Park bench, I love you, for your beauty and service combined.
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