Benchwarmer

 There’s a man on the bench

He’s writing again

There’s a bag on his back

In his hand, there’s a pen

 

He’s writing something

I’ve seen him before

Always he is sitting

Outside the front door

 

He comes inside occasionally

And wonders thee around

Pulls some books from the shelf

And goes back to sit down

 

Why does he do this

I’ve questioned at times

It’s nothing illegal

He’s commiting no crimes

 

Everyday he will do this

It’s routine I guess

I don’t think he is homeless

For he’s never a mess

 

Should I talk to him

He doesn’t seem bad

He always is smiling

He’s never looked sad

 

Sometimes I ponder

What goes on in his mind

Why does he do this

How is he defined

 

Everyday just like clockwork

He walks up just like that

Sometimes even wearing

Gloves and a hat

 

Does he get something from this

Repitition, I mean

He seems meditative

Somehow serine

 

He looks like he ponders

Reflecting upon

Someone he misses

Someone who’s gone

 

Will he ever find them

Is this how he makes his search

Penning a story

Even those put in verse

 

He’s sending a message

Just to say hello

And he’s sharing to all

How deep down does this go

 

He shows to the whole world

Heart you can’t fake

Emotions he’s kept

A bond he won’t break

 

He made a promise

And he’s keeping it still

He must be enlightened

And have Hercule Will

 

I’ve seen him many times

When I’ve walked home from school

Red pen in his hand

And  Sky Blue ribbon of spool

 

I think it reminds him of someone

I just cannot place

He remembers them well

He remembers their face

 

I see a picture

There are two that I see

Is this why he does it

What thoughts do they bring

 

For he has with him parchment

And he writes everyday

Maybe that’s his persona

And it won’t go away

 

I admire his moxie

Just to do what you love

He’s trusting his heart

That’s a gift from above

 

Now he’s up and he’s walking

The pattern resetting itself

That man found what he needed

He truly has wealth

 

I know I have seen him

I can’t remember from where

He reminds me of a book

I’ve read it in there

 

Inside the library

It’s been sitting awhile

Whenever I read it

I can’t help but smile

 

There’s a picture about him

Placed in the back

He’s called Hercule Will

But his name’s really Zach

 

Will he ever stop writing

When he becomes an old man

Or simply keep writng

As long as he can

 

Either way he seems content

To continue this way

A spiritual journey

And that’s how things will stay

 

I hope that one day

I make follow that course

Find my own way

And never remorse

 

On the fact that I am free

For I followed my heart

Faith in the knowing

What a great place to start