The honeysuckles smell sweet as I cross the bridge,
reminiscing about the past.
I remember my old cat,
his sweet demeanor,
the rare snuggles,
his thumbs—
the head bumps.
I hear my friends laughing about snails and gazebos.
I feel their hearts beating in time with mine, knowing
we are still connected over this distance.
I see my grandmum basking in the sun as
my brothers and I race around the playground.
The air fills with our laughter as I walk further on.
Friendly faces stroll pass,
some with dogs—
others, children.
A bird flies overhead;
babies chirp in the tree to my right.
My fears rise to the surface
as if the peace I found was a calamity.
I pause and sit
down on a bench to stare across the park, looking
for something to settle my quickening pulse.
The water twinkles in the afternoon sun—
a shimmering beauty.
The Beatles play in my headphones, drawing
a smile across my face.
The worries dissipate in the breeze.
Another bird catches a grasshopper
and the wind teases the trees.
The japanese maple is growing taller every day.
It’s leaves a moody red, drawing attention
away from the mighty oaks that stand like twins
just beyond it.
I feel less alone as I sit—
this bench, dedicated to Lewis lawrence, provides
me comfort from their perspective.
So It Goes 