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Monday, February 27, 2012

The bench

There’s this bench
In a nearby park
It’s rusty and old
Many stories are told

Surrounding it are tables
Games play on cold concrete
Wisdom passes fables
Morals are exchanged

The man sits on that bench
Same park, new beginning
There are no tables around
He is left contemplating

1 comment:

  1. I love this poem because it's a history lesson. Cherish your memories. :)