Changed Disguise

This was a bench for weeping,
A bench that held sorrow and pain;
Past memories were with her,
A shadow to bind and contain.

Oft she came in the mornings,
Hoping to find some kind of joy,
But the slow passing of seasons
Reminded her what change can destroy.

The shower of bright yellows and oranges,
Only furthered her gloom,
As she remembered a time past,
When only love was consumed.

How many years had passed by,
Since he had changed his mind,
Since autumn had been uplifting,
Since fate had set a new design?

She looked down at the rose within her hand
And once again began to weep,
For she knew that this small symbol of love,
Would only briefly keep.

But then she stopped and truly looked
At the rose within her grasp,
And knew a thought never had before,
Of the pain within her past.

Could there be any life without change?
Or joys without experiencing pains?
Would spring burst into bloom,
Without winters frigid rains?

Maybe within her shadowed valley,
The dark had hidden a surprise,
And dwelling on her sorrow and losses,
Had thrown the gift in to disguise.