The Silent Bench

I lie there,

peaceful and serene

watching

the flat, still waters

of the green emerald pond

filled with the floating feathers

of passing by ducks and swans

who crane their necks

toward hands dropping breadcrumbs

of days gone past.

A boy runs by

red hat, red kite

tucked under buttery little fingers

that grasp the warm hand

of a tall laughing man.

A woman watches from afar,

face of disdain,

turns with a silent grumble.

With a shout

the kite takes to the air

soaring and soaring

over green flower meadows.

Grass munching cows roam

without a care in the world

their dark eyes quietly observing

a gangly boy with dark dropping hair

his face unseen,

hidden in the shadows.

But not for long.

A pack of laughing hyena approach.

Their teeth glint with rage

their eyes shining with mirth

abysses to the depths

of long forgotten souls.

The boy walks by,

not seeing the danger,

his battered shoe kicking

a well-rounded rock

over and over.

Oh, how I want to cry out

watch out I say

but of course, not a sound escapes

my crooked wooden sealed teeth.

With a shout

they pounce.

A blur of motion and flicks of deep rusty red

the same red

of an old flickering kite

Swallowed whole by the gaping cries

of maddened animals

who have gotten their prey.

Too late.

Clouds pass with a trumpet of rain

and thunder,

two figures run by

laughing with joy

tight hands gripping one another

as they hide under the creaky bark tree

nearby me.

They laugh again

and cuddle close

telling each other stories

of marshmallows burned by smoke

of good old days past,

but he doesn’t mention

when the beasts got him

on that grey day so long ago.

With a shout

they run out

their coats illuminated

by dark flashes of light

that threaten to burn and burn the world.

Not to worry.

The golden sun smiles through

white pearl clouds,

the light glinting off a shiny diamond ring

held in the hand of a man

crouching on one knee

in front of a woman with a summery yellow dress

who jumps with joy

as the man grins and grins.

Flowers from the blossom tree fall

their velvet petals like silk

and floating

on unseen breezes

so much softer than that day

with the storming weather.

With a shout

the woman runs

into the arms of the man

who hugs her so close.

Eventually he lets go,

his hand tightly holding

the fingers of a little girl

with gold hair mirroring his

that flies in the wind

alongside a bright red kite.

I’ve seen it somewhere.

A woman sits on a blanket on the ground

near the pond with the ducks

A baby boy in her arms

as she watches the two

with a smile and grin

telling them to come,

come eat.

How food tastes I wonder,

what flavors and spices and colors

remain hidden from me?

With a shout

A woman in straight skinny jeans walks by

her hand clutching the wrinkled old arm

of a man saddened by time.

They sit down.

Finally.

He moves so slowly,

like a turtle emerging from its shell

but with a shake of hand

he waves the woman away,

the woman with the same

sky blue eyes

and curling blond hair.

Silence.

he reaches down

and pats my old, flaking wood

that creaks under the weight

of my oldest friend

who, still to this day,

wears a bright red hat.