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stares sightless withdrawn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.