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Sense of Touch

That Bench He goes there every day; to that bench in the shade; Where his shoes have formed small clearings in the gravel; where his wool sport coat has rubbed smooth the paint. He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade where the squirrels eat straight from his hand as little birds frantically snatch up seeds he's sprinkled about. He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade but not today…and not again.
08/30/15 Submission for Contest: The Sense of Touch Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 8/31/2015 5:27:00 PM
I love the twist in the end of this poem.. It does touch the senses with sadness, and makes me question ..Did he die, or just closed a chapter of his life? .Love the mystery there, A favorite! Charma
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Date: 8/30/2015 6:04:00 PM
Touching and deep. I bet the squirrels and the birds miss him:-(
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Grahamburglar Avatar
The Grahamburglar
Date: 8/30/2015 6:39:00 PM
We all have a place, and a time, but our value comes from where and what we choose to do with that time. Perhaps another will be inspired to care for his critter friends.
Date: 8/30/2015 5:33:00 PM
beautiful imagery but such an unexpected sad ending:-( good luck in the contest
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The Grahamburglar
Date: 8/30/2015 6:35:00 PM
Thanks for stopping by to read and taking the time to comment. =)