Two Old Men Shared A Wooden Bench Poem by Gulliver Gimble

Two old men shared a wooden bench, that was made by God’s hand.
It sat below a cypress tree, on a golden street in Heavens land.
Surrounded by such beautiful clouds, he only stopped to sit for a while.
The two old men became good friends, as angels watched and smiled.

The first one started to carry on, jumping up and down.
Said that’s the way his grandchildren danced, going round and round.
We would all go down to the park, on sunny days back home.
I would watch those children run and play, as if they were my own.

The second old man laughed with joy, said; I can just see them now.
Reminds me of my own grandchildren, the best joys I had ever found.
One would sing nursery rhythms, she learned in school that day.
The other would lie in my lap, and we’d sleep the day away.

Stories they would come and go, each day they’d talk of home.
The second old man would tire a bit, as the other went on and on.
Sometimes they might talk about, what happened on their last day.
How God had suddenly called their names, no longer could they stay.

Hours went by from day to day, two old friends held on strong.
Often they could hear the cries; I can’t believe he’s gone.
Younger ones would gather round, they’d ask from time to time.
Does Grandpa hear me talking to him, when he’s on my mind?

One old man turned and looked around, as the other bowed his head.
I’ve been here much longer than you, these same waters I have tread.
You can’t speak or hold out your hand, to those who ask below.
But you can always fill the empty air, with the love that you know.

You can always run by their side, because the wind is at your feet.
Hold them tight late at night, and softly hear them speak.
Watch them laugh when times are good, listen to them sing.
They will know you hear them talk, if you will only do these things.

The next day that first old man, never showed up or even came by.
The second old man who sat by him there, never did he wonder why.
He sat down watching all the new faces, he had never seen before.
Before too long a new old friend, came walking through Heavens door.

And it started over again, the old man new the sadness in his new friend’s eyes.
He first started off by saying to him; in heaven no one’s sad and no one cries.
A good old man once told me this, when I came home to Heavens land.
Two old men share a wooden bench, that was made by God’s own hand.