The Park Bench

I wish I was a poet With magical words, To make people see all of the absolute in Tears fly, paintings in pastel different

When we look into our mirrors We sometimes miss
What love dumps upon all of us We shed tears, for we forgot to seduce the past

I have no legs, nor any crutches So my voyage has ended I only observe Sadness upended

When goodness is confused When gestures are refused When the kiss that could have been When a poets tear seems obscene

The one who hears is often deaf The deaf sometimes have nothing left if I could give a kiss away I would give it to lovers with true intentions.