The Park Bench

The Park Bench I wish I was a poet With magical words To make people see all of the absurd Tears fly, paintings in pastel die When we look into our mirrors We sometimes miss What love dumps upon all of us We shed tears, for we forgot to shed fears I have no legs, nor any crutches So my voyage has ended I only observe Sadness upended When goodness is confused When gestures are refused When the kiss that could have been When a poets tear seems obscene The one who hears is often deaf The deaf sometimes have nothing left If I could give a kiss away I would give it to lovers with hearts that sway Drawing love on paper in may