My Bench

My Bench When I was a teenager I use to make the short trek from my house down the street and through a bank of trees out to a open field that rolled upwards and lazily crested then fell back and dissolved into suburbia. On top of the hill there was a bench, worn by time and whittled by lovers who had carved their names on it. When I was bored or life got heavy I would sit at the bench and watch the long grass wave carelessly in the wind. One day between Jim Loves Sara and Ben and Melissa Forever I carved my name. I wonder if it is still there braving the cold and the rain without a care in the world. I wonder if Jim still loves Sara and if he does what are the odds that Sara still loves him back. I imagine Jim walking drunkenly out to the bench to trace his fingers over what they had carved together so long ago. Sighing as he remembers brighter days closing his eyes to think about Sara's smile and the softness of the lips he so longs for. The wind blows and the long grass sways as he wonders where it all went wrong. Who knows perhaps Jim and Sara are still together and it was Ben and Melissa's whose forever became just yesterday and then after a while that yesterday was suddenly forty years past and if they were to see each other today time and gravity would make it impossible for them to even recognize the face that, one day long ago on a bench overlooking long grass as it swayed carelessly in the wind, they had so fiercely and blindly loved.