013 Message in a bottle

Don't know if you've noticed, but there are a couple of wonderful, old, metal benches in Houghton Hall Park - the lion detail on their arms especially noteworthy. There are stories to be found even in the debris -who left it there? What were the circumstances of their life ….?

Message in a Bottle
Discarded, disregarded; fallen from grace.
Yesterday's comfort,
empty of promises,
half-heartedly hidden
or fallen from feeble grip.

Someone sat here, care-torn,
an orphan of love contemplating funeral rites.
This is a lonely bench,
flaking paintwork reflecting
the neglect within its short-stay tenant
Bramble and bush encroach,
a claustrophobic haughtiness,
for a life under siege.

Where did you go
when you raised a weary body
and staggered into the arms of the night?
The small comfort
of following shadow gone with the sun,
there is no proclamation of your presence
on this path of who-cares.

When you stumble-tumble, slip-trip,
clatter to an unforgiving earth,
give God a thought -
He's thinking of you.

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