Tuesday, 20 October 2009

The Bench

      We sat on a bench. A bench whos construction was dedicated to a stranger. We sat close and listened to the sound of the sea. Sounding like a choir with fingers pressed against thier lips....hushing. The seagulls seemed to glide through the blue effortlessly resting upon the warm sea air. It was summer.

      Behind us, the noise of families with children shouting was layered against a repetitive metallic clack that gave way to the sound of the air being displaced and lubricated bearings whirling.

      We were young. Responsibility had yet to learn our names. I was witty. I made her laugh. I made her smile. I taught her how to beat box and she held my hand. We walked. Poor. Rich.

      We put our pennies together and we bought some chips. Wrapped in old newspaper pages. With fingers stained red and blue from ice saturated by concentrated syrup. We sat together as we ate and then we smiled. We watched. Happy. We sat on a bench. A blue bench by the sea.

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