The Bench

There he lies on his favorite bench; in a park within the heart of the town

Most days he spends his time here, and naps on the bench

On a fall day, like today the grounds of the park are littered with leafs,

From the surrounding trees

There he lies, as people walk by, some wonder if the old man is ill

Does he need help, but they just look for a minute and then walk on

Some people look with a smirk, thinking the man must be homeless and that he brought blight to the park, and then they hurried past him

But the old timers who use the park know him well

His name is Joe, he not homeless he lives just across from the park

He has come to this park for the past 60 years

When he was young, his wife and kids would come

The kids would play at the playground, while he helps the love of his life put out the picnic lunch

Some of his neighborhood buddies would later drop by with their wives

Out would come the chesses sets so all the guys could play

The wives would talk for a while; as the kids played near by

This would go on into the warm summer night

Just before going home, after all the others had left

His wife and him would sit on the bench for a few minutes, talk a little, and laugh a little, then kiss

This would go on for many a summers they all gather in park to have fun and be together

But like all things, time changes, you just can’t stay in the pass

One by one all his friends would pass, seems like every few months he and his wife lost a friend

Also in his family one son went to war, and never came home

It’s been five years since his youngest daughter died of breast cancer

Then just last spring, his wife, he lost her, the love of his life

Now in his eighties, he looks back on this life, there sadness, yet when he remembers the past, those days in the park, a smile crosses is face

Oh, yes now that bench, where he lies, is a gift from his only living child

His daughter Ann bought it to honor her mother

Now days he comes with Ann and his only grandchild a little beauty name Sarah, she was name for her grandmother

Sarah loves to play in the park, and Ann sits strategically with one eye on Sarah and one eye on her dad, as he sleeps on their bench

Now I know you wondering how I fit in all this

Well at 2:45PM, today Joe while sleeping will pass away

Yes, I’m what you mortals call the angel of death, but that’s a misnomer, I’m just merely an extension of God, and really I’m the angel of life, I’m here to greet Joe’s soul and take him home

I understand why you mortals have pain at your lost, but parting is only for a short while

For you see where Joe is going is a place, where waiting for him is his wife, oh and that Son Joe Junior, who never make it home from the war, well in reality he did, his true home that is, and he’s looking forward to seeing his dad

The daughter, he watch suffer and die with great pain, well, she no longer has any pain and her face is all smiles knowing her dad will soon be arriving

Let’s not forget all those friends, there is a park in Heaven where there is a gathering, the chess boards are in place

Well, it’s about time for his soul to appear

It’s going to be hard on Ann and little Sarah, but they will get by

The point is that life is fleeting, such a short time, but it’s what you make of it that really counts

For in the end when you do pass, it’s only the memories that you will have

Like I just told Joe as we walk to the skies, Death is only one step in our lives!

Guildford H Windley

March 2, 2018

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Daydream

It is a mild autumn day.

The leaves have fallen

A gentle wind dissipates

The smell of burning leaves.

A perfect day to lie down

on a bench and daydream.

No more days

when pressures of

the work-a-day world

did not permit a stroll

on an autumn afternoon.

On the Bench He Sleeps

He tucked his stiff arm a pillow for his head

An old wooden bench served as his bed.

He slept though the autumn cool as it stirred the leaves

Remembering his last meal of corn bread, potatoes, beans.

His stomach growled, and he shivered from the cold,

These days his body ached, and he felt so old.

Of all the ills that could befall one man,

They happened to him over and over again.

Sunrise and barely the warmth from the sun,

He is alive, and a new day has begun.

Still he lays hoping for a ray of light,

To spread warmth and ease his plight.

© Cynthia Clark

A solid bench to hold my weight

I fall asleep

Wishing for a blanket to keep me warm

Wondering who will catch me should I fall

If you see me please say hello let me know you care

Let me know that someone is there