By Anirudh Vasdev
(7th October, 2013)
(7th October, 2013)
I am seated for you to sit on me,
wood, metal, paint and glue,
we were all united solely for you!
Our union - my purpose - to comfort you I wait, can't you see?
The polite tree waves to me everyday,
but I have my heart on another,
the slim and tall street-lamp is the light of my life,
but I treat him like a little brother.
The cement on which I stand is cold and unfriendly,
the soft grass tugs gently at my feet,
O! A stranger! I am graced with company!
*Cough* *Cough*, he smokes, *cough*, not such a joyous meet.
Whew! He's gone and I'm reunited with my silent scenery,
We are stagnant on the surface but inside lies bursting energy,
riveling with excitement, mood, flavour and sense in perfect symmetry,
yet we seem as expressionless as Keira Knightley.
I am an ant's breakfast, the Magpie's relief,
the homeless' bed, the fox's roof,
the Christian's faith, an occults belief,
and a familiar space for the aloof.
Yet you'll find me here, day in and day out,
without fear, without worry, without doubt,
this is my spot for better or worse,
It is my gift, it is my curse.
I enjoy the bustling busy mornings,
I introspect on the lonely nights,
I offer support to all whether dawn or dusk,
and have been witness to a few drunken fights.
You, young man, who step into my sockets,
Its getting cold, I urge you to head in,
put the pen away and warm your hand in your pocket,
there's a thin layer of ice developing on the dustbin.
Go and rest son, I'll be here tmrw too!
Thank you for your words, I found a friend in you.
Sleep now child, the party has begun elsewhere,
I see 4 coming towards me - dark, tall, young and one fair.
With a cold hand and a warm heart,
I take your leave;
Farewell.
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| The Bench at Seething Wells; The muse of this poem. |
