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Waiting
I'm sitting on cold, stone steps
waiting for a car to come
pick me up.
I stand up and walk a few
steps, peering around
the corner.
I see nothing, not even
the gust of wind
that smacks my face.
I feel alone,
as I slowly sink
down, down, down
back to where I had been
before.
Will she pick me
up? She couldn't have forgotten, could she?
No. I told her
this morning. It is
cold and lonely
as I sit
on stone cold steps,
waiting
for a car to come
pick me up.

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