Park Bench

See over there, sir,

Do you see those deep blue pools?

That cascading white waterfall of delicate curls,

That visage where perfection gleams,

That life adorned with riches,

That confidence that radiates,

Those two slender dowels crossed gently under that bench,

Those dainty digits tapping a cigarette on the marble ashtray,

Oh, but now do you see who approaches her with flowers?

It seems you are too late, sir.