She offered a view:
of a lake, of a sun
centerfold
framed by a tree and foliage,
green with life.
At the forefront, a bench,
which she described
as just a bench.
"Just a bench," she said
as if to save the day,
the moment that got away.
"Just a bench," she said
as if to greet the day
that in each of us awaits.
As if to bless those less blessed,
she offered a frame, a flair, a tree
sunshine,
dispersing rays of light over me.
by the lake with fishes inside
beautiful as a girl carrying a life.
A bench, a beat, another day
in the city of jazz,
or anywhere else you might be at,
a bench is never just a bench,
a bench is a memory of those who sat:
to unseize the day, to contemplate,
to pray, to give thanks, to rest
to hold hands; to mourn the ones who passed.
| in the memory of Renee |
