Park Bench of Memories

Park Bench of Memories

Boy, do I ever miss

          Sitting on a park bench

                    On the edge of winter

                             And writing poetry

          While the leaves fall

The smell of burning

          Leaves and wood

                    Like restaurant grills

                             Seem so much more

                                       Significant in contrast

          I miss dead friends

                    And ex-lovers at times like these

                             But humanity, too

                                       Must shed its leaves

                    But it leaves me with a sense

                             Of excitement

                                       Of the upcoming crunchy snow

                                                Insulating the ground

                             Walking steps then make

                                       A new sound

                                                While I have found

                                                          Myself alone

                                       Yet in love with life

                                                My immortal wife

                                 Which has held me through past strife

                             As I sit, reminiscing

                                       Beneath these trees

                                                On this, my favourite,

                                                         Park bench of memories.