By Rebecca Klamert
Cold hard stone supports me as I sit.
The last light of the day
dipping low behind the Lincoln Memorial.
Light dances across the pond,
Disturbed only by a gentle breeze
and the paths of the mallard ducks.
The crisp air chills,
as darkness takes over.
My eyes slowly adjust.
Tourists and photographers
hurry on their way,
nothing much left to see.
Yet I remain seated
as the cold seeps in.
Cold hard stone supports me as I sit.
The last light of the day
dipping low behind the Lincoln Memorial.
Light dances across the pond,
Disturbed only by a gentle breeze
and the paths of the mallard ducks.
The crisp air chills,
as darkness takes over.
My eyes slowly adjust.
Tourists and photographers
hurry on their way,
nothing much left to see.
Yet I remain seated
as the cold seeps in.
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