Red Mitten on the Bench

An empty playground bench in the morning light

A drop-red maton lying there overnight

Swing kings whisper softly in the cold gray air

No little hands are searching, no footsteps anywhere

So I sit with the silence

In the ribbon glow

A small lost thing

In a world moving slow

Empty bench, quiet heart

Under a pale blue sky

Holding all the words

That were left behind

Maybe someone went home when the rain came down

Maybe laughter disappeared at the edge of town

But the bench still waits where the shadows lean

Keeping one bright mitten in the cracks between

So I sit with a silence

In the red mitten glue

A small lost thing

In a world moving slow

And he bent your quiet heart

Under a pale blue sky

Holding all the words

That were left behind