My Poetry

The Bench

 by Rob Beckett

Sun onto the
Curving steel
Iron bench arm
In Autumn’s afternoon
Warm and still
Air hangs Around it.

For years alone
On paths’ trod way
From busy terrace
To peaceful rest
Of lunch’s calm

Shadows cross
Darkened grass
In cool trees
Sheltered care
For just a while
To take away
The rushed
And hectic life.

A poem written by rob beckett about the black and white photo of an iron arm rest on a bench in the Adelaide Botanic Gardens. The people rushed by all day going to and fro from North Terrace to a conference in a marque in the gardens.  Edited 21st April 2011 9:47pm

All images and writing copyrighted rob beckett © 2010