Benched

BENCHED Two old men shuffle by Grey, anonymous, stooped, Thinking of days gone by When the world was simpler, sunnier, Life was easier when they were stronger: The days were longer, when they were younger. Finding a park bench with only a pigeon occupant Their tired search is over And cigarettes are soon glowing in the fading light of sunset And worn-out legs are spread Over the dusty gravel. Smoke comforts their memories, bench comforts their legs, Chat comforts their lone lives - stripped of family, friends, Strength, sight, dignity. The cigarettes slowly dim, and the dark park Closes for the night.