Bench

It was a lonely bench you know
wooden and iron laced
with curled handles on each side

It was the one and only in a park
in the middle of the city
it was the escape seat for all those city goers
all those black and white suited 9 to 5 workers
It was a lunch seat, a dinner seat
a love seat, sometimes it even witnessed
some fights and tears

The seat was for two of any,
mother daughter, lover, cheater,
old woman and her birdseeds
It oversaw the park from dusk till dawn
it memorized the daily activities that ranged
from morning yoga to afternoon book reading
and some fooling around

Until one day a strange man
took a seat, with his paper bag
all alone
The bench wasn’t familiar with that face
nor of his habit of drinking from a paper bag
he even spilled on the wood and gave the bench a taste
of that dark bourbon

The bench usually listens to all
but this man was strange, he just sat there
looking into the horizon
and was very silent … well at first
then the bench was anxiously waiting
to hear his story
it waited, it waited, until the sunset
then the man uttered his first words

“I miss you my darling
I blame the sun for reminding me of your golden hair
I blame the skies that are jealous of your blue eyes”

The bench didn’t see anyone in the park
nor next to him
This wasn’t a first
there were many homeless people
who named that bench their home
and some their bed

The bench listened and listened

“Come here I saved you the best seat…”
He tapped the empty space next to him
“…to watch the sun as it sets, I even got your favorite drink”
He set a small bottle of vodka next to him

“I even wrote you something…
you like poetry and sky gazing in this park
so here you go”
he took a deep breath, got his small notebook
from his pocket and read

“These jealous skies
I wondered, why have they taken the color of your eyes
with chirping birds, why do they remind me your of drunken
humming that was so blurred”
he giggled as if a memory knocked on his mental door
and then he took a gulp from his paper bag

“I miss you my darling I do
but it seems that you miss me too
for every time I narrate my words
before I dive in my cold bed
I hear a bird chirp back next to my head”

The bench felt his pain, as he dripped that bourbon
then all of a sudden he felt the space
next to him fill up
but no one was there
he heard a soft voice compliment his

“I miss you my darling I do
that bird is a message from me to you
just to let you know that once I did say “I do”
and for you, I’ll keep my word forever true
I am away, it’s sad my bed is cold too”


The bench felt a cold breeze, a spirit
nestling next to him turning that bench
into a warm meeting place
for two, for lovers
so true

david hockney line drawing

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