The happiest bench

( image courtesy: http://feelgrafix.com/ )

It’s a beautiful park,

With a bench, a happy mark,

I sit here bend,

With a stranger at the other end.

I turned slowly after a while.

He smiled at me, fragile.

I smiled at him fine.

Saw a smile like mine,

The same that I see in the mirror.

No teeth, fresh and cute, no horror.

I was alone.

He was alone.

We talked for a while.

Until it seemed true, the smile.

My family had left me, I said.

His family left him, he said.

I could barely walk.

He could barely walk.

I was broken in my talk.

He was broken in his talk.

I was crazy in thoughts, many said.

He was crazy in his thoughts, well said.

We were so similar, I thought.

He agreed upon, no doubt!

I was so close to life.

Other end, he was so to life.

I saw the others differently.

So did they see me differently.

He saw the others differently.

So did they see him differently.

He asked my age.

I asked his age.

I said six.

He said it’s ten times six.

Our helpers came.

They had their uniforms same.

Mine saying ‘orphanage’,

His saying ‘old age’.

I knew I met him when I left.

He knew the same in a swift.

He went, like I sat, bend.

My friend from the other end.


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