Fall breeze blowing through my long brown hair, I sit on a shaded park bench beneath an overhanging tree.  I rock back and forth while sitting on my idle hands, worn and pale from neglect.  I close my eyes and try to take in all that surrounds me.  I hear the noisy bustle of plastic shoes hitting concrete, of voices speaking to inanimate phones with people on the other end, of loved ones speaking tenderley to each other, walking hand in open hand to some familiar destination.  I smell the air with all of its carried scents from nearby or far away journies.  The aroma of fallen acorns and shoveled earth reach my senses.  I open my eyes.  I see others busily and hastily making their way to appointments and responsibilities that are positioned at the forefront of their mind and gaze.  Their gates are quick with use of their arms and strong will to press forward.  Some are dressed casually in denim jeans and colorful cotton sweaters.  Others are in business attire accompanied by a briefcase or shoulder bag.  They glance in my direction as they pass by and I cannot help but wish they would not.  I am content to be motionless and do nothing but what I desire to do, observe.  These individuals have worries and problems, but yet they do not seem to hang them from their shadow or appendages as I do.  When I walk by, there is no haste or light elation in my steps, but apprehension and a type of void one can only see in those with a lost spirit.  What do people see or hear when I walk past?  I tremble at the thought.  But I am not parading past, I am sitting on a shaded park bench beneath an overhanging tree with the wind blowing through my hair, regarding but not judging those that pass in my line of sight.         

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