Rusted Bench
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.
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