Bench.

Bench.

A bench,
A bench of memories,
A bench of dreams,
Sitting amid a glade of wild flowers.

Looking out to a bay,
Glinting in the sun,
Chirps of birds, hums of bees,
Compliment this wizened feature.

Short yards away,
A steep drop. A cliff
Falling down into churning waters,
Below a bench. Where I sit,
Mulling over the days grievances.

A fiery ball, sinking,
Below the horizon.
Not sinking, falling away
One of life’s great illusions.

My life has sunk. Fallen away,
Gone like a leaf in the wind.
But this never changes,
Birds
Bees
And the sun glinting on the sea,
Glinting on the white cliff,
Glinting on me.