Conversations-a poem

Years ago, while walking by

A bench—it came to me,

How many people in my life,

Through time, I’d love to see.

The conversations that we shared,

The memories we made.

And though my story moves along,

The beauty never fades.

So now I find I rest upon

The bench most every day,

While conversations from my past—

I still can hear them play.

I cry, then smile, and sometimes laugh

With words and memories, too.

And as I stand to move along

I carry thoughts of you.

Retm