I took a walk into the woods;
My walk became a sit.
The ancient bench was cracked and worn,
And green moss covered it.
My sit became a stay, my feet
Had sunk into the ground,
Rooted by the scented breeze
And nature's calming sound.
My stay became a stand, my back
Grew tall, my arms spread free.
I stood stock still beside that bench,
Became a stoic tree.
The sun rolled 'round, the decades passed,
And I stood stark and still
Through autumns, summers, winters, springs,
All alone until...
A woman walked into the woods
With sad and quiet grace.
The scented breeze curled through her hair
And brushed her gentle face.
She wandered to my glen and found
An old bench overgrown.
But still she sat. She stayed. She stood.
Now we are not alone.