The Bench

Tucked away in my garden is a bench

I always thought it was nothing special

Just some metal and planks

That ceased to exist,

It’s old and battered

It’s paint is chipped and it’s wood is rotting

The seasons have not been kind

For so long I dismissed it

I paid it no attention until today

Then the memories flooded back

Of how many conversations it has witnessed

Good, bad, happy and sad

The conversation with my father when the doctors

Told him he had cancer .and how we cried

The conversation with my ex when she told me

She was leaving me for someone new and how I cried

The conversation with Jo when we first met

And how she told me how crazy she was about me, how we smiled

Of how it is my sanctuary, where she holds me and comforts me

When my madness is in full flight

In middle of the night

So many conversations it has witnessed

So today I see it through different eyes

This tatty old bench

It’s not just some metal and planks

That ceased to exist

It is the caretaker of my memories

And the keeper of my thoughts

Published by Fin