By The bench is alone in the park.
There is nothing to do
Except to reminisce about the Autumn and Spring,
Your benevolent presence was enough
In the permafrost mind.
Now the snowfall and hailstorm are planning for the last supper.
But you will still quake,
Your knees will still buckle,
Your eyes will still flood.
Even before a tree leaves must fall,
Before it blooms again in Spring.
And if I have learned anything
It is this!
Now, I am stronger,
My shoulders are iron,
My tongue is silver.
I can speak honey to the suffering,
Because I am fluent in their language.
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