Why do you sit alone⁣
In the medium ⁣
Atlanta traffic buzzing by⁣
Were you abandoned⁣
Are you cheap⁣
Are you old⁣
Broken wooden bench⁣
⁣
On your head yesterday⁣
I had thought to visit you⁣
To see if you had any worth⁣
I wondered if you were whole⁣
A busy highway ⁣
No place to stop safely⁣
The risk didn’t seem justified⁣
The prospect not apparent⁣
⁣
Today you’re sitting up⁣
Someone else was hungrier⁣
I see now that you’re injured⁣
A reason to be left ⁣
Or maybe wounded by neglect⁣
Not loved enough to go back for⁣
Your left joint is fractured⁣
A critical blow to your function⁣
You were left again ⁣
⁣
Are you there now ⁣
In the dark⁣
Being wondered at ⁣
By passing lights⁣
Alone in the night, slouching⁣
sideways in the grass⁣
Your ailing finish damp with mist⁣
Lasting another day⁣
Only to be seen⁣
Broken wooden bench⁣
⁣
Will I see you tomorrow ⁣
In the morning⁣
Will I ask myself again⁣
If you’re worth a closer look⁣
Or will I drive on like the others⁣
Hoping the city does their job⁣
Does what they’re paid to do⁣
Deal with this rubbish⁣
Keep it out of sight⁣
⁣
You’re a reminder that things end⁣
Nothing stays nice forever⁣
That time is being spent fast⁣
A picture of things to come ⁣
The prophecy of consumption⁣
That would have us all⁣
In its own way⁣
⁣
A thief is at the door⁣
Come to take our strength ⁣
Cast us out ⁣
To display our lack ⁣
Before the world⁣
⁣
Those no longer able⁣
Are not wanted, or needed ⁣
The same that loved us⁣
Will leave us.⁣
Broken wooden bench. ⁣
⁣
I make a promise on my bed⁣
With pity in my heart ⁣
And protest on my lips⁣
I’ll scoop you up tomorrow⁣
If I see you.⁣
⁣
I’ll make a place for you⁣
Seek your repair⁣
And restore your gift⁣
You’ll be more than before⁣
When I tell a story⁣
To those in my home ⁣
That find comfort in your service⁣
That I found you ⁣
And felt ⁣
⁣
Broken wooden bench. ⁣