On Monday morning I let my feet chase their whims and I find myself on the longer route again, the one that leads by the bench. Every step beats the rhythm of a song borrowed from a dream, drawing me closer and closer, back in time. My heart pounds loud as I enter the park, following the path that takes me along the old trees, guardians standing on the borderland of my yesterdays. I turn my head slightly to the left as I reach the bench and see another woman sitting there, laughing into her phone. I steal a quick glance at her, smiling as I turn my head away.
And I remember the joy, telling and coy.
On Tuesday morning the sun smiles as I walk and winks at me from behind frisky clouds, when I look up and find a man sitting on the bench. He’s wearing a suit and a frown, lines of great importance transforming into letters as he scribbles into a notebook.
And I remember the words you couldn’t say, fading away.
On Wednesday morning a cold wind is teasing me for tears and I see a couple huddled together, their knowing smiles filled with the happiness of their tomorrows.
And I remember how close you felt as my heart melt.
On Thursday morning I see an old woman resting there, eternal wisdom in those eyes.
And I remember how time stopped, when a new perception changed the laws of reflection.
On Friday the kids scream, reminding me how crazy I’ve been. In the rain the umbrellas cry how safe I felt with you back at that time. In the fog I recall how blind I felt with that silly happiness I could no longer control.
Like the sun’s reflection in a million teardrops after rain, like an endless echo of that single morning I retain, when I sat on that bench and felt more certainly than ever before, that it was one of those few mornings my life was truly worth living for.
Image by northernmonkeyz