I saw an old man sitting on a
Bench, all by himself.
I wondered about how he ended up there,
Where he started out,
Did his mother sing him songs?
Was he bullied at school?
Did he get a good job?
Was he handsome?
Does he have a family now?
Is he married?
Or did his wife leave him?
Or did she pass away after fifty years spent together?
I would like that, growing old with someone
I love.
But he looked unhappy, sitting on
The bench and
I wanted to go over and make
Sure he was okay.
It just made me think about my life
And how it is sprawled out infront of me
Like a map.
But for the old man on the bench,
His life is behind him and all he has now
Are his memories, regrets
And lines etched into his skin.
(Found on a bench in Wild Cherry Park)
YOU ARE READING
Faded
Teen FictionBecause in the end, we are all irrelevant. Especially me. {A series of notes and letters written by a girl called Chloe McMullen, found in places you would least expect}
