My Bench
My Bench
When I was a teenager I use to make the short trek from my house
down the street and through a bank of trees
out to a open field that rolled upwards and lazily crested
then fell back and dissolved into suburbia.
On top of the hill there was a bench,
worn by time and whittled by
lovers who had carved their names on it.
When I was bored or life got heavy
I would sit at the bench and watch the long grass
wave carelessly in the wind.
One day between
Jim Loves Sara
and
Ben and Melissa Forever
I carved my name.
I wonder if it is still there
braving the cold and the rain
without a care in the world.
I wonder if Jim still loves Sara
and if he does
what are the odds that Sara still loves him back.
I imagine Jim walking drunkenly
out to the bench to trace his fingers over
what they had carved together so long ago.
Sighing as he remembers brighter days
closing his eyes to think about Sara's smile
and the softness of the lips he so longs for.
The wind blows and the long grass sways
as he wonders where it all went wrong.
Who knows
perhaps Jim and Sara are still together
and it was Ben and Melissa's
whose forever became just yesterday
and then after a while that yesterday was
suddenly forty years past
and if they were to see each other today
time and gravity would make it
impossible for them to even recognize
the face that, one day long ago
on a bench overlooking long grass as it swayed
carelessly in the wind,
they had so fiercely and blindly loved.
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