The art of the wooden bench!

I found a wooden bench to call my own ....

Hidden away on an island in the middle of the city

It's a relatively new bench - compared to its surroundings ....

 Sitting alone in a room once full of ship-building turbines

She sits against a worn-out wall - sandstone green with age

Wall cannot recall when she last saw a coat of paint....
but never mind, her beauty shines through the cracks

Her windows are  boarded up in anonymity ....

 .... as if to keep her history hidden from prying eyes



Alas though it's all in vain....

For the echoes of a turbulent past 
reverberate around my little wooden bench 
hidden on an island 
in the middle of the city.

© 2012 Francesca Muir