“a weathered bench”

Written for:  The Twiglets #143 – “a weathered bench”

weary old woman
rests on a gray weathered bench
color of thick fog

Ancient maple tree hung
over a weathered bench
in the park. When tree
was cut down, bench splintered
into sawdust.

Faded green bench
in the playground
covered in hearts
and initials, carved
into its facing. Where
are those people now?

A young mother from Massachusetts
had a daughter who was a nuisance.
The girl had no respect
hammered benches ’til wrecked
Mom, enraged wanted change, but had lost blueprints.


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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3 Responses to “a weathered bench”

  1. Misky says:

    LOL! I adore your limericks.


  2. Violet Lentz says:

    Several tight images invoked here.. Nice job..


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