The Park Bench 12-03-2004

The sky was a cold steel gray
Looking down at the man on the bench
The park still and solemn
As if in preparation for a prayer

The young man sat there sadly
With paper and pen in hand
In his eyes were hidden stories
From far away forgotten lands

Trial and terrible woe
Always his constant companion
Yet still he tried to write
Of love and great compassion

A whisper touched his temple
While he silently began to write
It brought the faintest smell of perfume
On this stark December night

In a glimmer of a moment
A forgotten smile returned to his face
A happiness entered his writing
His pen wrote at a frantic pace

Snow began to fall in this quiet park
The man finished his composition
He strolled off into the dark

Unaware that as he wrote
An Angel had been at his side
Leaving a kiss on his temple
Leaving her mark on his life

12-03-2004 Bonnie Jean Higgins

This was written for my dear friend Paul D. Aronson who always encouraged me to keep dreaming and keep writing. Paul finally accomplished his dream when he published his first novel “The Resurrection Diaries”

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