Sad Girl Poem by Mary Champion

It was a dull, dank morning when I saw her -
a pretty girl -
fur coat and flip-flops.
She sat alone on the park bench,
phone in hand,
staring - blank-eyed - into space.
But her air of desolation was palpable.

I wondered about the nature of her anguish.
At that age it was most likely; ' Love' -
(The erotic version.)
Unrequited?
Turned to hate by bitter experience?
(The other versions.)
Devastating news about a loved one?
A family row?
Unfriended on Facebook?
A lack of likes on TikTok?
Just lost a job she loved?
Failed to get a job she thought she'd love?

I had no way of knowing the cause
or what words might bring comfort,
so I passed silently by.
It was as if I didn't care -
but her unhappiness resonated deep within me
and she was on my mind for the rest of the day.