Poetic

I found myself upon a bench, midway upon a city I have long since called home. Sir Carlton Edwards and Madam Ellen stumbled upon me, a bench which I would seek retreat. An old lady with her dog walked up to me. And while I wanted to write a poem with a different ending, I realized I was living one in real time. So I wrote nothing. And aspects of that interaction will be lost to time. But I did not care. I spoke to this elderly lady, Ellen, and her dog, Carlton, for as long as she want...