On a Bench

As she approached the public bench that wooden miserable affair, sizzling below the the summer sun, withered, peeling and unkempt, she reckoned that five-letter word and all the meanings it could stir had it been another soul thinking about it. Had this fair lady been a judge, she could immediately recall the very day she took the bench to glower over every wrong. A baseball player would abhore the mere sight of one in case his bottom was all warm and slack by sitting on one in each game. A metal worker would think work A gymnast would start working out A miner would dig a wide ledge A backbenching MP aspires for the front. Yet she is but a gilted girl sitting each noon on this same bench he once had said he'd go away no longer loving her to stay.