Bench

by Pamela

I faintly remember writing this quite a few whiles ago, I think I was taking a walk

the winds moves you and
still
you’re gentle
let me spend a darkness or two
sleeping against your crinkled branches

and you.
how many patterns do you find
in the same space?
you’re so aware of movement
that you flee from it
apologies for my footsteps
shake the water.
to you
paintings of it would never suffice
allow me
Sir gentlem- fish
to hum you to the surface –
seep into your pond, trickle down to you,
dripping sound
and swilling like gatherings
of dancing raindrops
to fill your pond to the brink

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