Perception - Joann Grisetti's Blog

Still On A Wooden Bench

Silent,  still,

on  a  wooden

bench  –  I lie

still, andsilent.

an old wooden

parasol to block the sun; to keep from scorching

me; a cool lawn for bare feet to savor; well worn

and weary from visiting; a flag or some flowers, a

splay of color,

or  pink clover

should  do;  a

mature grown,

maple or elm,

to bloom, bud

and  leaf each

spring; simple

needs,  simply

met; my name

carved  deeply

in granite; it is

simplicity itself.

I posted this poem some time ago, but rearranging the words makes a big difference in the perception. Now, the poem looks more like the grave marker. We sometimes do this with people, try to shape them into what we want them to be. Just a thought.