The Only Thing Missing
Hard park bench setting there
On the banks of the lake
Under the trees
Leaves hanging like jewels
With tiny breezes arranging them
Ever so lovingly with their little wind fingers
Not a cloud in the sky
Not a sound except for bird song
Not a footstep or a sigh
Not a hint of humankind
Not a scent of rain nor tear
Pristine and perfect
I sit and take in the scene
Silently and with reverence
That bench is where we met
Where we fell in love
Where we touched hands in wonder
Of love and were awed by the fear of it
That bench is sacred to me
Those trees are like palace guards
Those birds are like songwriters of my heart
That breeze is like the touch of your caress
That lake is like a silver mirror
Reflecting me and the bench and the trees
And the jewel-like leaves
Now hanging there like teardrops
Now hanging there like teardrops
The only thing missing is you.
©by Voo
Feb 19, 2005
5:30 p.m.
