THE BENCH THROUGH THE SEASONS

THE BENCH THROUGH THE SEASONS

I sat on a bench in the park,
On a crisp autumn day,
The wind was blowing softly,
As the leaves danced away.

They twisted high above me,
They tumbled through the air,
Red and gold and orange,
Were flying everywhere.

Then gently they came landing,
Where soon they’d fade and rot,
And when the winter snow arrived,
Autumn was forgot.

Winter came and gripped us,
It held the nights so tight,
Cold and frosty mornings,
And darker frosty nights.

Then Christmas came with laughter,
Maybe snow upon the ground,
Children running happily,
And dancing all around.

January lasted forever,
Or so it seemed to me,
February cold and bleak,
With bare limbs on each tree.

But March was getting closer,
And something stirred below,
Tiny buds were waking,
Where winter used to grow.

The crocuses came peeping,
Their colours bright and clear,
I sat back on my old park bench,
And knew that spring was here.

The park began to wake again,
The birds began to sing,
The trees put on their dresses,
In every shade of spring.

Then spring slipped into summer,
With warmth and golden light,
Long and lazy afternoons,
And muggy summer nights.

The grass smelled freshly cut,
The bees hummed all around,
Children laughed upon the swings,
With sunshine on the ground.

And there I sat just watching,
The whole year passing through,
The same old bench beneath me,
The same familiar view.

No need to rush or worry,
No place I had to be,
Just sitting there doing nothing,
With nothing troubling me.

And maybe that is happiness,
Not riches, fame or cheer,
Just sitting on a park bench,
And being thankful I am here.