The Old Bench

The Old Bench

An old iron bench

empty beneath the shade

of that grand tree

Layers of peeling paint

tell its story

Once shiny and new

and delivered with a festive bow

Bestowed upon a smiling mother

by three young children

It was the keeper of happy memories

Carefully placed on an open porch

by the front door of the family home

it bore witness to endless summers

as children played in the yard

and their mother sat, enjoying their laughter

A resting place for filled backpacks,

Fall jackets and gym sneakers

it served as a makeshift bus stop

as school days approached each year

Its fading paint marking the years

It stood silently as the rain poured down outside

and the tears fell in the house that was once a home

In the chaotic time that followed

that old bench was moved and forgotten

Lost somewhere in the shuffle of then and now

When the sun finally emerged

from the relentless storm

the old bench was rescued

from the darkness of the old barn

New eyes saw its potential

Carefully cleaned by a gentle hand

Layers of neglect washed away

and gave purpose to that familiar friend

A new coat of paint and pretty cushions

celebrated second chances

The old bench waits now

beneath the shade of that tree

in the beautiful garden planted

by that same gentle hand

as new memories are made each and every day



photo: mine

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