The Beauty of Both

The wind blows lightly,
not quite warm. not quite cold.
Quintessentially fall
as the sun plays peekaboo in the clouds.

There is a crowd around,
but not here,
not now.

Here, it is quiet,
a place for souls to pause,
and sit,
and gather themselves in a silence shared,

to ruminate of journeys and battles,
to share scars and burdens
and the beauty of both.

About this poem

I went on an “artist’s date” yesterday. I saw wonderful art. I saw the Magna Carta (goosebumps). I saw antique cars. But the highlight was sitting on one of these benches and just being.

Tom