" Sitting on the Bench "

 
    Bench


  On a quiet wooden bench; 
  sitting next to a stream.
  Life seems so non-pretense,
  and all day I can dream.

  Though my bench is alone,
  my lost love is beside.
  She watches as I skip stones,
  at least in my minds eye.

  It's funny how love stays,
  although years past she left.
  And as my time passes away,
  I still hold on I guess.

  Distance and year’s fleet by,
  but still I get no rest.
  Today I sit and sigh,
  here at this park bench.

  S A Gibbins    8/95