Hidden

he was sitting on one benches of the public park
where anything goes really,

after a stroll, he sits again, putting his feet on a trunk
his arms on the upper side of the bench

the air fans him and he looks at the trees lush with leaves
it rained last night and the scent of freshness is here again

he simply sits there alone...
there is no need of anything

or anyone, in this kind of a very simple bliss.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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