My name is Sarah Plasant. I was a Policewoman in 2002.
I first saw Grandpa Doe on his favourite bench in Serene Park,
A lady saw him sleeping and was worried that he might be dead.
She called the station and I was assigned to investigate.
I went out and found him covered in old newspaper.
He was snoring like a dinosaur.
“Excuse me sir” , I said politely, “You can’t sleep here.”
“I’ll have to ask you to move along.”
He opened his eyes and screamed a terrifying sound.
I wrestled with him for awhile and eventually got him to sit up.
He wasn’t happy but he did manage to speak.
“This is my Bench. Leave me alone” he said indignantly.
I called for backup and we managed to get him to move along.
The following night he was back. The same woman called again.
This time she said he was being bashed by some teenagers.
She said he was bleeding all over his face and ruining the park bench.
I called for medical support this time and we managed to
patch his face and neck.
“You can’t stay here Grandpa.” I said, ”It’s not safe.”
He sat again and said.
“I am a free man. This is a free country and this is my Bench.
No Police or teenage hooligans are goin’ to kick me out of my park.
He seemed to be feeling better so I sat and talked with him awhile.
“So Grandad what is your story. You’ve obviously lived a long time.”
He took a deep breath and started to talk.
“I was born in a little country town called Balana.My father left and I
was raised by my Mother and my sisters.We didn’t have much
but we were happy in those days.
Its funny how when you are a child you easy to please.
It was before computers made the world miserable.
When I was 19 I fought in the Vietnam War. That’s where I lost my arm
I left a little piece of me in the jungles around Saigon.”
The stars out and it was quite beautiful on this little bench.
Grandad Doe stopped talking so I explained what needed to happen.
“You see buddy we have to get you somewhere safe.”
“Somewhere safe. Are you mad?” He screamed.
“I am only safe on my Bench. You are one of those women aren’t you?”
“What women might they be? I asked?
“The type that smile at me and put a needle in my arm.”
“No, I said, not on the first date.”
He laughed and it was joyous to see that old man smile.
The Moon came out from behind a cloud and he spoke as clear as
as a mountain stream.
“I’m a bird and there is a Sun in my heart.
When I leave this old bench I will fly beyond as high as life will let me.
But I have many regrets. I should have been a better Father,
I could have been a better Son.
Your a good listener Constable and I’m pleased to know you.”
With that he fell to the ground and lay there dying.
He stopped breathing and seemed at peace.
I rang for help and stayed with him until them came.
I often think about Grandpa Doe when times are tough.
He had a quiet joy and wisdom and a smile that lit up a dark park bench.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: June 4th, 2025 00:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, sorenbarrett
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Comments5
Superb write David, thank you for these words.
Andy
You are welcome mi amigo.Thank you for the kind comments
A wonderful write, touching on many things, that bench was his home, he sacrificed so much in war yet through it all tried to remain positive. I got the sense he had been waiting for someone to talk to him and listen, which freed him and allowed him to become that bird. A lovely read
Thank you so much.I glad you enjoyed it.Your insight is always appreciated
You are very welcome
A touching story of humanity and the lack of it, of life once used and now discarded of what is owed and what is taken. Many metaphors in this poem that can be transferred from people to countries and history of a nation. It speaks of wars national and now personal and defeat on both fronts. It is a most complicated metaphor of acceptance and who we are. Very nicely done
Thank you so much.I was inspired by homeless people in Sydney sleeping out in the Winter.They are nameless and it is so sad especially to realise they all had interesting lives.Thank you for your inspired insight mi amigo it is always welcomed
A true blue battler if ever there was one. Totally relatable 🙏🏻🕊
He was a horse stealer as well. But hey we've all been there.Thanks for commenting
Excellent write David
Thank you
You\'re welcome
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