I sit down on the old birch bench, I can feel the wood spring beneath me, telling me the story of the people who sat before me.
Including us,
in our halcyon days,
Holding hands under the old willow,
Together.
I remember running through the park,
Maybe a little too tipsy,
Maybe a little too young
As we fell onto the bench.
The sun was setting,
Dawn showing its crimson face.
I think back to our first kiss,
Under glimmering starlight,
Our giggles being heard throughout the green.
I can recall the first time we brought her out,
She was only a baby,
As we wheeled her in her pram.
A little blossom descended onto her head.
That day was magical.
A small blue tit landed,
Lilting its beautiful serenade
Before fleeing to its bramble.
I’m snapped back from my reminiscing,
By an out of tune crows caw.
I can feel your phantom beside me,
Still with me,
Just not physically.
I come here all the time,
Though your shadow slips under the sun
And your kisses are tethered to the stars.
I won’t let your shadow mar our time together though