Park Bench

what i love most is there is so much reading i get to catch up on, you have all been very busy while i was away....amazing reading.

Park Bench

I sat under a paper umbrella of the reddest hue autumn
and like an apple 
I waited for you to pick me ripe
bite, smell my neck
and remember.
I sat on bench of grey weather boards
waiting to be thrown down upon them-
wanting to be pinned down upon them.
Feet on a rug of discarded
leaves, just like me.
discarded but beautiful. 
still just a season long
season woman,
can you love me winter long?
Ill meet you on the snowy bench.
white puffs of apologises will float from my mouth.
my toes will shake and the fence we loved for being red 
we'll love for being white. 
Red will now slither to my ears and you will say things I can't hear.
And the stars will paint the sky too dark so we
can see that winter sparkles.
Spring is full of other lovers, this bench-
lovers that are not you and I.
And the playground is full of candy wrappers and mothers sneakers.
The trees are majestically green stretching and yawning and showing off.
The children bouncing, whining, crying,  finding.
Spring is full of lovers but not us
so she gives my heart to summer
and glass doesn't melt so the places where I like to feel your sweat 
are the places where they like to touch my body.
summer makes us reckless and the bench, our bench is being held together by the squirrels claws and the sparrows talons... they wait for us to scatter.
hot you kiss my dampness, damper. 
hot you kiss my pain and sorrow. boiling all the past good voyage.
our fence has lost some posts as,
the children love to climb and kick
it will hold on, still. 
but it won't hold-out and won't hold-in which is what fences are meant to do.
at least they should... they should choose. 
Autumn, yes it's autumn ours. We are autumn lovers 
with leaves of the book skittering beneath the empty slide.
We are autumn, smell like the burning leaves of who we were. 
Smelling like the fresh cut wood ready to have her rungs counted out.
Autumn lover, hold my hand and tell me you are afraid.
Autumn lover holding colors golden, like a circle round.
Hurry, before she blows me past the red fence,
Hurry before our secrets get caught by the wind and dance around the playground.
Hurry Autumn lover, 
Hurry to remember that you loved me, once.

Shannon April Alice 
11/2/14

www.slovesdisco.com ...my blog, love to have you.

Reviews

[Karen]

Sounds so sweet and nice! I enjoyed:)

[Shannon April Alice]

thank you karen, i appreciate that you took time to read and say hello.

[icelandicblue]

I love the imagery of the seasons in this piece as the backdrop to lovers coming together and pulling apart. I also really liked your use of the fence. The entire piece is mesmerizing. I will have to read more of your work:

Autumn, yes it's autumn ours. We are autumn lovers
with leaves of the book skittering beneath the empty slide.
We are autumn, smell like the burning leaves of who we were.

[Shannon April Alice]

thank you icelandicblue, i think your observations were mine as well... they were lovers through a the seasons of a year. how did they fair? thank you for your time and kind words.

[Pitta S Dev]

Beautiful! I tried to review this piece of writing ' Park Bench'. I read, read and reread for five times and enjoying this poem leaving no space in my mind to write a review.

[Shannon April Alice]

Dev you are such a romantic at heart!

[Pitta S Dev]

as an 'Apple' inspires

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like that idea "hurry to remember that you loved me once"

then i will just blow away like a figment of your imagination, or a leaf in autumn.

lovely piece...you would get an "A" on this had you handed it in last week...i had my classes write a description exercise in class....the theme of it was to write about a Bench...
either from the perspective of looking at it, describing it...sitting on it, describing all around you, or, being the bench itself.

you have captured that feeling in this...plus the wonderful feelings of my favorite season.

[Shannon April Alice]

the funny thing about this poem? is that it is an absolute true story on a grey bench, in a childrens park with a red fence. i said, 'look at that red fence,it's just so perfect.' he said, 'this is why i love you. this is why i can't forget you, you see the world so differently'' i think autumn will be our winter...but still. glad i got an A teach

[jacob erin-cilberto]

poets do see things differently, don't we?

makes it even better that it is a true story.