The man on the bench

I saw a man across my street sitting on a bench 
watching me
I smiled right back to the man who frowned 
suddenly I heard a laugh
I looked around, no one there, so I turned back
no man just a empty brown bench
The smile wiped off my face, I couldn't help
but frown


The young man that was gone
always came to mind
He rather looked like my brother 
to my dark blue eyes
My brother that fought 
through the battlefield of war 


Day and night no matter what time
I hear the laugh, once or twice
I remember one time
I told my brother a joke 
I told him to remember the humor we once had
when he's dying on the ground
I wonder if he still remembers me  
after all we're family


The days past on, no brother
to be seen
Until one day a letter came 
A letter to be read
your brother is dead
My mother weep
My father dread
All I did was only read on 
My brother died in battle
four weeks ago
exactly on the day 
I smiled to the man who sat on the bench.

Reviews

[leppero]

a wonderful display of translating thoughts onto paper, ( or screen) I like the way the man on the bench plays into your thoughts about your brother ( sorry for your loss ) I like the structure and your voice, they made your poem easy to read and understand


good stuff, fair play

[H.D. Murphy]

I really liked this poem! And an incredible experience. Thank you for sharing.

[Jamestown]

Wow, I have heard of similar stories. This must happen to people, thanks for sharing.