The Bench

On the green carpet of grass
At the pavement, under the shade of a tree
Invitingly, stood a wooden bench
With it’s arms open towards the world

Covered by a blanket of dead leaves
Bathed in the morning dew,
With the sunshine it woke up
As the joggers wiped it clean

Waiting for the busy morning to settle
Silently it watched the rush
As the people sat, waiting for the means
Some just alighted to tie the shoe lace

Towards the noon, a dishearten soul
Befriended the bench
It let him in its’ arms, Patiently
listening to him as he pour his heart out

At the lunch time, it joined
The company of the laborers
Crisscross they adjusted to sit on,
And it’s complaining creak, went unheard

Towards sunset, it became a favorite view point
Seated on which a poet, rambled
And the evenings were occupied
By the love birds, stealing sweet moments

Abandoned by the night, the bench
Was then, the bed of a teetotaler
He hugged the bench and
Crept in to a dreamy world…