The Little Bench
That little rustic bench of yore
beside the old mill stream,
that’s where the two of us would sit
and dream as lovers dream.
That little rustic bench of yore
was made of cedar wood
and there we’d dream the hours away
as often as we could…..
That little rustic bench of yore
is broken now in twain,
She would sit there with me no more;
she’d found another swain.
That little rustic bench of yore
has fallen quite apart;
the pieces scattered on the shore
where lies my shattered heart.
O’ little rustic bench of yore
become as once you were
and bring her back to me once more;
my love of yesteryear.
Hugh Wyles, April 13th.2009.
Author notes
Memories and
a poem in ballad style.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Simply beautiful and sad that she found another swain and left him brokenhearted to watch the bench fall apart.
Hoping that she would come back to him one day.
Delightful to read my dear.
Love Jen
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Dear Hugh,
What a charming poem you have penned.
The longing and the yearning to have the days of yore back as well as your love of yesteryear. I think we all at one time have a love we never forget and long for it's return.
A beautiful Ballad my friend.
Love Bea
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Beautiful
I love the repetition, imagery and sentiment. There but for the grace of God go I.
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Dear Margaret,
I see no evidence of your falling apart!
Thanks, love and hugs, XXX Hugh.
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