Poem: Waiting for Restoration

Waiting for Restoration

You sit
alone
on a bench worn
with age
and weather,
rough to the touch.
stripped by winters,
void of paint,
raw
like your soul, worn
to a point near breaking,
yet somehow
still serviceable
because that is what you do,
what you are,
functional in your raw beauty
until you break
at one final weight while
waiting
for restoration.

============

The picture was taken in Northern Vermont this past fall. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom