The leaves, flickering sun,
the canopy for our bench.
Before us the grassy knoll,
a scene of frolic
for children and dogs.
The lake,
a shimmering backdrop
with flowers and ducks as stage props.
The changing cast rehearses
as we await the well-known play.
Veteran play-goers,
our anticipation keen.
The play a random slice of life,
the park and the people,
never the same, never differing.
Today we again bid each other good-by
in this theater.
Each year summer and family
call us away.
And parting words binds us.
A bond able to last the stretch
that comes with our parting.
Perhaps no bond should hold us
over time and space.
But this bond is of the heart,
and can't be cut
by time or distance.
There are irrational truths of the heart
and we will stretch, but hold,
anchored by a touch to your shoulder.
We will sit on this bench again
when the leaves turn.