I'm in the park. There are people basking in the sun, sat on picnic blankets.
I? I'm sitting on a bench under a willow tree. Carved on the bench is 'George Pope 1910-1988'. I'm alone today with just George to keep me company.
Children totter by with their parents and company in tow, oblivious to me watching them from under the tree - oblivious to how much I wish I could have the company of loved ones that they had.
The sun is out but I'm getting chilly. The people and their miniature counterparts are leaving - and I think it's time I did too.
Lost in love and inevitably, in loneliness.
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