The Bench

THE BENCH

The bench sat on the lake shore,
shrouded in mist and nestled in,
images of the past flickering in the air,
like and old home movie of forgotten dreams.

Tendrils of fog glide over the water,
the lakes surface mirror clear,
broken only when a fish breaks the surface,
snapping at flies in the starlight.

A moving portrait displays on the backdrop,
broadcasting memories pulled from times grip,
etching them into the haze for all to see,
a frame by frame history of a life well lived.

An old man sits, lost in thought, a cane at his side,
pondering his life and wondering at his choices,
thinking fondly of the friendships he’d had,
and the losses he had endured.

A cool wind rustles through the leaves,
rippling across the stillness,
the vision wavers and the scene changes,
the elderly man fades from view.

A young couples tender embrace appears,
two silhouettes drawn within the unreality,
wavering for a moment their story unfolding,
and then like a dream they vanish into the ether.

Throughout the night the ghostly apparitions continue,
moving fluidly from scene to scene,
carrying the viewer through the ages
and following the bench along its path.

with the rising of the sun the story pauses,
the fog drifting over the waters dissipates,
the waking world settling back into reality,
as another chapter opens…