The Lonely Bench
by Lord R.e. Taylor
Nine months out of the year
That bench is a popular place
Parents watching their kids
Fishermen hoping for that trophy catch
Young people sharing their first kiss
And older people talking to lost loves
But once the first snowflake falls
That bench is left all alone
Frozen and forgotten it waits
Listening for the sound of a human voice
Just so it knows that somehow it still exists
© Poem – 1/VII/MMXXIII
LRET
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