If I were a Poet………
If I were a poet, I would tell you about the beauty of the promise of a bloom. Like youth, the beauty shows hints of what is to come.
If I were a poet, I would compare the beauty of a berry, ripening in the sun, to a young woman, developing in her beauty and sweetening with age.
If I were a poet, I would compare a tired young mother, who can lose herself for a few years in the busyness and stress of raising her children…..to the crowd of foliage, if you blink, you will miss it. The tiny wildflower just begging to be noticed.
If I were a poet, I would compare a withering flower to growing old. Looks weathered and tired but has its own unique beauty that can not be ignored. Look close inside that old woman, you will see a loveliness that the young bloom of a girl could not possess. Look even closer and you will see drops of rain, like life, still nourishing, still full of promise.
If I were a poet, I would be able to explain to you why I think this bench is so lovely. Scars and all. It shows years of life led and like the stones visited on Memorial day…..peoples names, years lived, this bench holds memories for someone still living. Holds memories of perhaps a grandfather sitting with a child, sharing a slice of watermelon and telling the child of the good old days……perhaps, just perhaps.