Park bench

      Motionless and cold,remains the place,
      where buit dreams came crashing down.
      Around the garden bench,
      only weeds resist,taking the place of lost hope,
      Remember the moment...Every moments,since the frist moment,
      of the place built the image of the creator.
 
      Immobile,continues the bench,
      insisting on staying at the same place,
      all the time whatever the times needs,
      for someone to sit down again.
 
      I returned to that place ,loaded whit nostalgy from the past,
      and smell the time ,that gladdens my soul,
      as if the past was the treasur of my existence,
      tear the time in remembrance,
      than it could have been,
      but it wasn't.
      and i live trapped in a crack of my existence,
      whwre i don't want to leave.
 
      The breeze of another time passes by me,
      and echoes aroud me sweets words foreshadowed in fleeting moments,
      that the moment always had the postpong.
      Highlights me in my body,
      the brief caress that saves me from death,
      the silence falls,hidden among emocional trenches,
      and the place is empty again.
 
      The garden bench never be there,
      only my immaginarium of happyness,
      needed a place to return,
      I'll put it back,and take out ,
      whenever my memory needs.
 
 
                                                                                                                               J.D. 13-2-2020