David Harris

Gold Star - 4,611 Points (18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

An Old Bench - Poem by David Harris

An old bench where lovers sat
now lays weather beaten tattered and worn.
The stories it could have told
are crumbling into dust.
No one sits on it anymore
to listen to its tales.
It just crumbles with the weather
until it will be long gone,
except for within the memories
of the young lovers who once sat
holding hands and whispering
sweet nothing in each other's ears.

5 July 2014

Topic(s) of this poem: miscellaneous

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, July 12, 2014

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