The Bench

A man sat on a bench in the park.

As he sat on the bench, he thought of the things it has witnessed,

The day the park recently opened, when everything was still new and clean,

The sight of families it must’ve seen, picnicking every weekend,

The whispers and promises between lovers who sat on it,

The silence shared between old married couples, content just by sitting on it together with their spouses,

The cries of a boy who scraped his knee, or who got lost from his mommy,

The silent tears of women who got left by their lovers,

The grief of men who’s life was torned apart,

It has seen a lot, this little bench in the park,

And it has always been there for everyone,

Providing people with exactly what they needed, never wavering,

The man stood up now, ready to leave,

For it is already dark, and he has to get home now,

He glanced at the bench and thought of the memory it must contain,

It’s significance differing from one person to another,

But it is just a bench,

And with that he left.