The Bench

What have I become, this once so solid flesh?

A memory brought to mind in an instant;

To those dearest to me, forever fresh.

To some I am an afterthought, a topic to reminisce,

The boy who broke the classroom window,

The one with whom you shared your first kiss.

The man who always wore highly polished shoes

And in latter days walked with a hand carved cane.

He challenged the council over the by-pass plans

And made a stand the day that the bulldozers came.

For those I have an engraved plaque on the bench

Bought in lieu of funeral flowers, as my want.

The plaque simply spells out my name and dates

Of birth and death in clear, plain sans serif font.

Colin Beardshall 2014