The Bench

The Bench

You were never one to complain
while I kept you waiting for me.
From our first date it seemed
you squared your mind to accept
the waiting as if it were a provision
for spending your time with me.

You often found yourself waiting
while I got ready for a movie,
while I shopped for new shoes,
and you even waited for me
to finish my evening shifts, in order
to give me a ride home from work.

You waited with a smile as I
wore white and walked down
the church aisle to join you.
You waited patiently as I learned
to cook for the undemanding
and thoughtful husband you are.

Then you waited for me at the
hospital for the birth of our child.
Pacing the waiting room floor
with worry until finally; the halls
echoed with our baby’s first cry,
you hurried to hold us both close.

But soon it will be time for me
to wait for you. I’ll be waiting in
a glorious place with streets of gold.
There will be no pain and I can relive
the tender memories of our love.
I’ll find our bench and sit and wait.

I can reflect on all the blessings
we have known all these years,
joys shared as man and woman.
Somehow it doesn’t seem quite fair
that I wait amidst such beauty
while you finish your time here.

But, I’ll go home and wait on our bench
and still be there when you come home too.
The bench looks antique but sturdy and quite
comfortable. It won’t seem like any time at all
and, it’s fine if you have to keep me waiting
after all the times you had to wait for me.