The Strong, Steel Bench
She sits on the strong, steel bench. A bench so strong that it could hold nine other people. A bench so strong it that could hold her heavy heart. The lights are bright, Blinding to everyone but her. Sounds are loud yet soft. Chaos transpires around her, With people running to get to catch their train. But she stays. Right on the strong, steel bench.
She sits on the strong, steel bench. The one with nine other people on it. Nine agitated, stressed, worried people. They complain of traffic, delays and exhaustion. She too was once filled with annoyance, She would admire their suits, Their flowy dresses with embroidered flowers, The mouth-watering food they ate, Loathing her rags and the crumbs of bread she lives off of. Oh how she wished to live like them. Why was the world generous to some rather than all? But emotions fluctuate, and she learned to accept the world as it is. All at once, the nine people get up and leave, A step closer on their journeys to see their loved ones, Or to be in their happy place. But she stays.
She sits on the strong, steel bench. The bench that once had nine other people. Tomorrow there may be eight or ten. They too will come and go. But she will stay, With her trained eyes, heavy heart, and no complaints.