Proud Bench

A proud bench was alone.
It relished its perfection.
The seats were comfortable.
Its decorations were a special gift.

In that park grew many roses.
Their beauty was a natural endowment.
Visitors were calmed by their aroma.
Still humble, they felt joy from their service.

The grass couldn’t understand the bench.
Children played and laughed with them.
Geese were fed by their blades.
Always renewed, they smiled for their service

As the ages passed, the bench’s beauty faded.
The grass and roses were reborn every spring.
The bench lost hope in its loneliness.
No longer needed, it was finally taken away.

W. Wayne B.

About W. Wayne B.

I'm a software engineer, a poet and a librarian.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s