The Girl on The Bench

Outside Gus Machado, a wooden bench sat,
its surface is cooled by the morning rain.
There she sat, with headphones, sealing her silence,
scrolling through her phone with ease.

Her face revealed no clues, a mask of composure,
yet her stillness and beauty drew the eye.
Unbothered by passerby’s or by their voices,
she is a portrait of quiet command.

What filled her ears? A rhythm, lyrics, a thought,
maybe she’s thinking of her future,
maybe nothing at all,
just the rhythm of her music, shielding her from the world.
​
When she left, the bench still remained,
hugging the weight of her lingering presence.
It seemed to whisper a secret truth:
peace itself can be beautiful and captivating.