Take 5.
Park Bench and Roses
He's there waiting on a park bench, roses draped between His knees.
He's been there since before morning,
before the sun even began to force its way through the trees.
He woke up with intentions, intentions that were all good.
He called you last Tuesday, for a date, and you said...
You said that you would.
And while you get caught up in so many things,
He was waiting for just one thing - your face.
And here is where He'll wait, the park bench; the place, the place of meeting.
And He's still got those roses grasped within His hands,
Even though He knows you're off with another man.
And He's still got the chocolates melted in the box,
Even though anyone else would have had them tossed.
And when the footsteps of others start to draw near,
He eagerly glances up in hopes that you are there.
Smile and a wave, as the faceless figures pass.
He's waiting for you, the one that duplicates the image in His heart,
The one that makes Him laugh.
And in attempts to force time to pass quickly by,
He sings your lullaby, that He to calls His own.
Under His breathe, in hushed tones, is where the words linger,
As He passes each rose through each and every finger.
And meanwhile you're off in a distance, amongst the city lights.
While He waits for you in the stillness of the park, come second night.
You're one too many days late, and while others would have considered themselves forgotten, He continues to wait.
You're beautiful, so beautiful He can't resist.
(Reason being why He'll stay here until no one else exists.)
Until the roses whither, the chocolates melt, and all bone disintegrates to dust.
Being seated while He waits, is nothing but a must.
"She'll come, she'll be here", He'll continually proclaim,
As He patiently sits repeating your name.
Oh there's so much in a name.
Delicate letters formed into the perfect word, perfect meaning, your perfect face.
Perfect face, how long are you going to have Him wait?