The Bench – a poem

The Bench by Jim Murdoch
Consolidated, staunch and unyielding,
Built afar from any building.
Unload all your troubles and take the weight off your feet,
Never judging anyone where sea and earth meet.
Courting, mating, deep thoughts escaping,
I bare the names of passed loved ones on silver plating.
Fetid old men make a bed for the night,
Cast out from society, they stay out of sight,
I comfort and support; they’re only true friend,
They cling to me tightly till the bitter end.
Seas are a crashing and the church bells are crying,
If there’s no-one around still the whole world is sighing.
If I had no purpose, what more would I be,
A winters chair longing, waiting to see,
Children dancing, playing around a sycamore tree.
My flesh is rotting and joints are creaking,
You think on me for hours, but what are you seeking?
I’m the meaning of life, your harmony and strife, don’t be fooled by my mediocrity you won’t like my hypocrisy.
The things I’ve seen you’d be surprised I’m not blench, so next to you visit, I’m so much more than a Bench.


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