The Internet Poetry Archive

The Old Park Bench

Michael Levy

I walk by the old park bench next to the bowling green once in a while,

My dad sat there.

He would watch his cronies argue who is closer to the jack,

All are gone.

The bench is empty.

Weeds cover the once lush lawn,

Dandelions and daisies grown profusely.

The bench is empty.

© August 2000 Michael Levy.

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