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
©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland
