The Bench

Every day at nine
He came to sit on the bench.
No-one knew for how long
This habit had travelled,
Nor who he really was.
Just a man
On a bench,
In a park.
He only ever stayed
For half the hour,
Then would rise and leave.
A man could record
Accurate time in
Such visits.
No-one knew, nor cared,
To where he went.
Only that half an hour hence
The bench was empty.
It seemed odd that it remained so,
Save for the man.
And when he stared out
Of what did he think?
For his eyes were far away,
More often wet than not.
Then one day he no longer came.
The council came and took the bench.
‘Unused; no longer required.’

And there was no-one to miss
The bench.


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