If I could speak whispering words
what would I tell you?
I've been used since birth
till death it will continue

I've seen spring
summer
autumn
winter too
naked to life's elements

I do not feel
I'm dead to the touch
I used to sit in a fantastic forrest flush
I longinly long for those days
when I felt the wonderful wind
Blow throw my spindly hair

Oh but it's gone
Instead
I'm listening to tales and weary woes
of wars had
Scars left
Tales of the neighbours wife
and wee jimmys strife
What a life

The days I long for..
when families come
with love and laughter
Galant giggles
Tenacious tickles
Forever times
but soon they depart
as I'm left enchanted
longing for the next encounter

But sometimes..
I'm as lonely as lonely gets
the lost key never found
Shrouded in a coat of sadness
Oh how I miss the place that I grew up
now I solemly sit
on all fours
as if the statue of grey friars Bobby
planted without roots

My only solace
Is the families fun
My only..
My only

I sat under a paper umbrella of the reddest hue autumn
and like an apple
I waited for you to pick me ripe
bite, smell my neck
and remember.
I sat on bench of grey weather boards
waiting to be thrown down upon them-
wanting to be pinned down upon them.
Feet on a rug of discarded
leaves, just like me.
discarded but beautiful.
still just a season long
season woman,
can you love me winter long?
Ill meet you on the snowy bench.
white puffs of apologises will float from my mouth.
my toes will shake and the fence we loved for being red
we'll love for being white.
Red will now slither to my ears and you will say things I can't hear.
And the stars will paint the sky too dark so we
can see that winter sparkles.
Spring is full of other lovers, this bench-
lovers that are not you and I.
And the playground is full of candy wrappers and mothers sneakers.
The trees are majestically green stretching and yawning and showing off.
The children bouncing, whining, crying,  finding.
Spring is full of lovers but not us
so she gives my heart to summer
and glass doesn't melt so the places where I like to feel your sweat
are the places where they like to touch my body.
summer makes us reckless and the bench, our bench is being held together by the squirrels claws and the sparrows talons... they wait for us to scatter.
hot you kiss my dampness, damper.
hot you kiss my pain and sorrow. boiling all the past good voyage.
our fence has lost some posts as,
the children love to climb and kick
it will hold on, still.
but it won't hold-out and won't hold-in which is what fences are meant to do.
at least they should... they should choose.
Autumn, yes it's autumn ours. We are autumn lovers
with leaves of the book skittering beneath the empty slide.
We are autumn, smell like the burning leaves of who we were.
Smelling like the fresh cut wood, ready to have her rings counted
Autumn lover, hold my hand and tell me you are afraid.
Autumn lover, holding color golden like a circle round.
Hurry, before she blows me past the red fence,
Hurry before our secrets get caught by the wind and dance around the playground.
Hurry Autumn lover,
Hurry to remember that you loved me, once.*

Shannon April Alice
11/2/14