On a Park Bench
On a park bench, the codger waits
left to ponder why he must hate
this man he loves whose gone astray
in the park, his young son once played
vacillating, he deflates
His gay son, he thought in dire straits
heavily, his worrying weights
from balderdash of youth today
On a park bench
The codger once loved to elate
or tell a joke of his create
but now the amusing displays
usurped by his deploring ways
fear not hate left to devastate
On a park bench
Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Seventh place in For Love of Language contest (Debbie Guzzi)
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