Red Bench Promise




It wasn't raining that day
Rain was trapped in my eyes

I faked the smile, saying good bye
but I've never been a good liar

Those soothing words you said
I packed neatly along with a handful of hope:
in this park with a red bench, we'll soon meet

On the back of the bench, I sit today
saving my shoes from the splashing mud
as I am worry about them:
how if they get dirty,
then I would stain your jeans
when I run into your warm hug;
isn't it a day for the red bench promise?

The dripping rain streaming down my umbrella
is the only sound I hear for hours
besides another rushing rain, escaping from my eyes
for the red is not anymore the color of the bench...


*written for Creative Writing Ink on October 3rd and Poetry Pantry #74.

7 comments:

The Cello Strings | November 13, 2011 at 6:03 AM

very beautiful.
smiles.

Old Ollie | November 13, 2011 at 8:06 PM

Strong imagery and story - nice piece N.

Promising Poets Parking Lot | November 18, 2011 at 2:45 AM

love rain poems, this is beautiful.

check out poets rally week 56 today, smiles.

Ella | November 19, 2011 at 10:09 AM

I love the imagery and the weathered reflection!

Carrie Burtt | November 19, 2011 at 8:51 PM

There is piece of hope in this....beautiful writing!!

Neni | November 19, 2011 at 10:04 PM

Thank you, guys..... :)

zongrik | November 20, 2011 at 5:30 AM

for the red is not anymore the color of the bench great imagery

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