By The River Poem by Danielle Mari Nidea

Amidst the fog lies a bench.
Once sat three, now sits one.
Beside the bench breathes a tree.
See in it height markings which weren't so effective
because we realized that the tree grew taller along with us.
Feel in it memories of hide and seek.
Down the roots lay a vast, green carpet.
Once laid picnic baskets which were
extremely vulnerable to the soldiers of the Anthill.
Once argued two teenagers who must now be in their sixties.
Beyond the cattails flows a mirror.
What it once reflected, no one remembers.
No one but me.