Abandoned View

Quietly taking it all in, like an old man marking time.

It’s not a bench,
like a heavy park bench,
it’s more a loveseat
or settee,
setting abandoned 
atop a rocky cliff
high above a beach
at the end 
of a dirt road.

It sits where 
you’d expect
there’d be 
a park bench,
placed by a city
or good friends
for someone special
who’s no longer 
here, a lasting
declaration of love
and appreciation 
for a shining star. 

No, this is
an abandoned 
wicker settee,
whimsically painted
in horizontal stripes,
the top purple,
the middle lime green,
the bottom
a deep turquoise,
the spindly legs white.

It’s ratty and worn,
likely passed along
from one young family
to the next until
a few strands of wicker
have cracked, some have snapped,
a few frayed and dangling loose.

It long ago 
lost its cushions
and its integrity.
 
Now, it sits,
forlorn, facing the horizon,
watching wave after wave roll in,
a light breeze occasionally 
making its loose ends vibrate 
but no breeze strong enough 
to dislodge it,
no one 
daring enough 
to take a seat.

It just looks too frail,
like an old man 
marking time.

So, there it sits,
quietly taking it all in,
the sun warming 
its arms and legs,
moist marine air
swirling around its back,
its once bold stripes
fading further and further 
into a muted palette of pastels.

Its colors will soon 
be unrecognizable
and it already lacks 
the sturdiness  
to serve 
its intended purpose.

So, there it sits,
enjoying the view,
for however 
much longer
it exists.