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.