A View From The Park Bench

Upon this old familiar bench From which I've spent a time or two, Just gazing at the sky above And watching chestnut trees, Which change throughout the seasons Now their copper leaves do fall, Which gather on this stony path And tossed upon the breeze. For scattered far across the field And through the air with random flee, From every bough it seems to pluck Until each one is bare, Now soon the winter shall be here With icy chills the frosts and snow, When I'll not stop but carry on And find no comfort there. Upon this bench so old and worn That's scrawled and etched on every slat, And smeared with food and all things bad Yet still to me, so kind, For here within my solitude Away from all the toil and spite, I'll take my time to look around While others seem so blind. Within this park the children play Upon the swings the slide and frame, And run around upon the grass Just like I used to do, But now so many years have passed And older but no wiser I, And wish I had my youth again Reliving days I knew. Upon this bench I sit and wait And as the people pass me by, Some of them do speak to me Some look the other way, Yet here the grass shall always grow Beneath my tired and aching feet, A friendly place I call my own Where often I do stay. I long for daffodils of spring To watch them all come into flower, When blossom blooms upon the bough Such beauty there to see, Then listen to the birds that sing As if for me their sweet refrains, And I alone shall hear them all Each golden melody. Upon this bench on which I rest I think how many things have changed, Yet here it almost seems the same As times of long ago, St. Mary's there still proudly stands And in the morning sun does shine, As ages passed it's witnessed all And seen the village grow. Now as I make my way back home And walk along this stony path, Adorned by scattered copper leaves That through the autumn fell, I know I shall return again To lose myself within the view, And watch the seasons changing From the bench where I shall dwell.