The Park Bench Reconciliation

[thestoryteller]

The Park Bench Reconciliation

The scent of spring lay in the air and sun's rays soaked the lawn,
Inviting me to ... rise my son! Come greet another dawn!
Already townsfolk bustled by ... I bid them... "How’d you do!"
Then sat upon my fav'rite bench with clothes still wet from dew.

Three long and lonely nights I'd camped there in the city park,
Though only slept spasmodic'ly, as somewhere from the dark
The scream of sirens echoed, making statements through the night;
It's murder, theft and overdose! The end of some soul’s fight!

The lure of lights and city life, enticed me, filled my head,
With notions of new freedoms ... for the bush was surely dead.
So boring, so predictable, the same old crowd of friends;
With life styles going nowhere and their futures down dead ends.

And that was just three months ago and now it's come to this;
My savings gone, no sign of work and most of all I miss ....
The Mum I took for granted, who was always there for me,
But selfish desperation made these facets hard to see.

'Twas then I glimpsed the presence of a woman drawing near,
Which commanded my attention, for her features laid so clear,
A certain sense of emptiness - so etched upon her face,
And watched her tie the bouquets to the bench with yellow lace.

My presence of no consequence, I heard her gently say.
"How are you John and you too Mark, 'tis such a lovely day?
I miss you two... you both know that... this year has gone so fast.
I'm doing rather nicely John, I've found a flat at last."

"The boys from down the R.S. L. ... your mates from Vietnam ...
Had heard you'd lost the battle love and feared I'd come to harm;
So found a flat ... it's lovely John ... and not too far from town
And when I need a few things love, I don't mind walking down."

"I understood your trauma dear, the torments of your mind
And how you fought the phantoms of that war you left behind.
The demon drink, the vagrancy, 'til fin'ly in the end
You lost your fight on this park bench ... alone, without a friend."

"Young Mark was only just sixteen and could not understand
The hand life had dealt out to him and often would demand;
An explanation why his Dad was no part of his life ...
I lost him John; he hit the streets where heroin was rife."

"For weeks I searched the streets in vain, 'til finally I read,
Some kids were dealing in the park, or so the paper said.
Then just as you found peace of mind, one dark and lonely night;
They found our Mark upon this bench. He too had lost the fight."

At that she rose, then paused a bit, and said "Adieu my men;
Until this time next year my loves, when we will meet ag'en."
Then took a step, but paused again, to look me in the eye.
Her final words. "Go home my son. You're much too young to die."

© Merv Webster

[Zondrae]

G'day storyteller, (the Grey, Merv)

Welcome to the site. When I read your name I realised we know you well. Glad you decided to jump in. Thank you for keeping with the spirit and sharing your poetry with us. Some of the newer members may not know of you and your events. If you wish, you may go to the introduction spot and fill us all in.

[Leonie]

Oh boy, I don't know what to say, except ... Wow. Some poems are good, some are really good, and some leave me almost speechless and trust me that's not easy. This is one of those. Brilliant.

[thestoryteller]

G'day Zondrae. I hope life is treating you kindly. I've been writing a few family history books and they are time consuming, but very rewarding.

The Storyteller.

[thestoryteller]

G'day Leonie, thank you for sharing these reflections with me. So many bush kids are forced to live in the cities, where some get by and others don't and so many soldiers came home to fight their biggest battles. I wanted to combine the two stories.

The Storyteller.

[Leonie]

... and you did it so well. The penny dropped, Merv Webster. You are The Grey. This isn't the first time a poem of yours has affected me so deeply. You certainly have the knack. I think The Storyteller suits you to a tee.

[Bellobazza]

G'day again Merv...
Beautifully crafted and so sensitively handled. (I felt a little embarrassed for eavesdropping).

Cheers, Will.

[Heather]

Brilliant Merv. A hauntingly sad story. I especially like the last line.

Heather

[Maureen K Clifford]

G'day Merv

Recognized you from your other websites. This one is a beauty and could also probably be slotted into the We will remember them section.

I bet there are not many dry eyes in the room when you perform this one.

Welcome to the site too - great to have you along.

Cheers

Maureen

[thestoryteller]

G'day Will, thanks for sharing this with us. I'm sure they wouldn't mind mate.

The Storyteller