The Bench in the Park

Weathered confessor

of secrets your slatted form

stares sightless withdrawn

awaiting the Spring

of new life love laughter and

pain. Now Autumn’s gold

covers the parkland

gentling the season of death.

Wraith memories swirl

in the mist their chill

fingers ice-twisting the heart

stay breath and life beat.

You will not again

bend an ear to our whispered

confession of love.

Life’s Spring comes but once.

Only once Autumn’s brooding

bodes the long Winter.