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The bench
| Open Poetry #38 |
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The bench |
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zaz Junior Member
since 2006-07-09
Posts 26 |
This park bench has many stories. Like the first time I held your hand, exploratory delight. next, a kiss soft and tender, we knew at once time was ours to share. This bench is worn with stories of many lives, Like the time I sat with our children, feeding a squirrel, friendly and fat. Summer heat muting sounds at the playground, ice cream truck jingling in the distance. Our laughter and fun a precious jewel, To be hoarded like the squirrel with his nuts. Or the time we were mildly drunk, after that Halloween party dressed as ghosts, necking like horny teenagers at our favorite spot. Autumn leaves blowing about on that cold moonlit night, warmed by our lasting love on the bench. Or the time we sat on the worn wood after a winter walk, hand and hand, our hair as white as the clouds above. Now I sit here, tears burnish the memories, Fading, like the paint on this old bench. I wonder how many have sat like this before me. as the bench waits for new stories to be made. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Thad Geer - All Rights Reserved | |||
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TinaTrivett Senior Member
since 2006-07-15
Posts 569 |
Lovely..lovely..lovely. Very nice with a twinge of sadness. |
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divine chaos Senior Member
since 2006-07-09
Posts 617dancing 'neath the moon |
achingly beautiful, i love this kinda of writing ~*Sheli*~ By words the mind is winged |
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Memories we make, outlive us always. Such a tender remembrance. Much enjoyed. TD |
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