In the sunlight,
An empty bench
Before your house
A ghostly sense;
The wooden slats
Once painted red,
Where once you sat
With nodding head
Show flecks of gray
The paint chipped off
A quiet place to sit and pray..
The cat has fled;
To the neighbors yard,
Beneath the shed,
Life turns hard;
No more easy
Kitty treats
No boney laps
Her fur stroked sleek
I still recall your bright 'Halloo, '
Your arm held high
As we paused to go
The cat sprang up
And climbed a tree;
And menaced us
Cold eyes that see.
The bench stands empty in the sun
No voice commands us that we come;
Just that faint whisper
Beyond despair;
A kind heart is gone
How still the air
loved this beautiful work of object-person association. nice sketch, David.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow. you are great. This is profoundly sad for me. I usually say a lot, but im speechless. NICE!