Night on the Bench

Posted in Seat Sunday
Photography and Poetry

halloween-bench-3

“I must go in. The fog is rising” EMILY ELIZABETH DICKINSON

Night on the Bench

Surrounded by misty air
Missed the last fare
Sitting on the park bench
Wishing I had worn a trench
The eerie surroundings
Leaving my heart pounding
Not a soul in sight
On this mystical night
Wrapping my coat tighter
My mood getting lighter
I hear some noises
A car approaches
Finally, I have a ride!

halloween-bench-3

A Bench to Sit on

Posted in Seat Sunday
Photography and Poetry

2b
“I don’t generally like running. I believe in training by rising gently up and down from the bench” Satchel Paige

A Bench to Sit on

I was looking for
A bench to sit on
What I hoped to score
Something close to a lawn
To lay my tired self
On a softer shelf

Then I saw it
The bench, made of stone
When I tried to sit
I felt it to my bones
Too hard for a fit!

Moving forward
I found one, made of wood
Maybe it wasn’t hard
Rather suitably good
Too soft for a fit!

So once again
I had to complain
But I knew, the right seat
Was just in reach
I just had to seek

A little while longer
As I moved along
The feeling now stronger
I knew it wouldn’t be long
I was close to finding
As I saw the metal shining

I finally found it
A bench made of metal
For me to sit
Soft as a petal
A purr-fect fit

2b