The Park Bench

There’s a shell upon the shore,
And it’s claiming to be free,
I look out of my front door,
But all I see is me.

Pull me below,
Merge me with restless leaves,
Oh, let me know,
What it feels like to be children’s playful screams.

Now the sun is sinking low,
And a flower is grown on stone,
It’s like water that doesn’t flow,
And a king without a throne.

It’s not difficult to see,
A willful shining gem,
Many people pass by me,
And I’m invisible to them.

We have lost all our care,
And love is thrown is thrown too far to fetch,
Listless laments of dreary air,
Sitting here on my park bench.

And now it’s time for me to rise,
But my thoughts I leave behind,
I pay no heed to my companion’s cries,
They are a legacy for someone else to find.