Every park sits a bench
Every town has it's wench
What's that stench?

Take a stroll along the beach
Everywhere, seems to be a leach
Who's to teach?

Benches breed splinters
Long, cold winters
Take a seat and believe..

For tomorrow is not guaranteed
A bench will still be
Can you not see?

Along came a storm
And, swept away the norm
But, not my bench..

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem

This Poems Story

some things remain.