Rusted Bench

Written by: Matt Daniels

You can smell the fall scented air,
Hear the laughter and screams at the fair.

See the dogs run loose,
Giving the kids an extra boost.

The bench I sit unto,
Had the dismay of an older clue.

Rusted edges,
Concreted ledges.

Chipped brown paint,
Turning a little faint.

If you look through my eyes,
You can see some kites in the skies.

A plane over run,
Moving briskly before the sun.

If you sit where I sit,
You'd be on the bench with a wit.

Rusted edges,
Concreted ledges.

Chipped brown paint...
Turning, a little faint.