A saddle brown wooden bench

At the peaceful end of a busy street In the dated old part of the city Sits a saddle brown wooden bench And vivid green blades of grass Grow through its rusty legs And some wild clover weed Rain drops on a long abandoned bicycle, locked to the sidewalk rail Over to the side, where children play Under the blue tarps, having called it a day The street hawkers have their tea A black car pulls over at the bend A young man steps out and strolls Dressed in a suit with a…Read more …