A daily stroll
for my me time,
makes me whole
while under the sunshine.
Through the park,
I clear my mind.
Having made a mark,
I stop and resign.
I take time to sit and relax.
Just a moment off my track,
A park bench for me, empty,
I find a laptop with no appointee.
For whose could it be?
This machine in this park
Curiosity eats at me,
Sitting under this tree.
I turned on the laptop,
Like I was in a coffee shop.
But what I was to see
Put me in a frenzy.
Nothing but pictures
Embedded across the screen.
Pictures of my own leisure,
My own strolls through the park's green.
Pictures and Pictures
Displaying only me. And a note,
That reads, "Truly Yours."
What am I to make of this quote?
I could be frightened.
I could go to the police.
Rather I choose to be enlightened,
Supposing others want to make peace.
I have never had my own computer.
Now, this is truly mine.
So the gifter maybe a stalker,
It is not for me to define.
I received a gift
For which, I am on cloud nine.
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