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Sitting On This Blue Park Bench

Sitting on this blue park bench,
I hear the nightingales sing
high in the trees. I feel the soft wind
blow a cold solemn
Breeze, as I plead with the fleeing sun,
For I know come the moon,
my loneliness will be released.

Sitting on this blue park bench,
my heart beats as thunder,
A mind in paranoia,
I fall into a black yonder.
Scouring the gloom of night,
For the voice that makes my heart wonder.

Sitting on this blue park bench,
I know my love for you will not
take fright, when shadows of roses
and trees become demons in the night.

I will wait here till I see the sight
of my lost lover's light.
As I sit on this blue park bench.

Submitted: Sunday, September 16, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, September 19, 2012


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Written whilst sitting on a blue park bench

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