The Bench

A Symphony in B Flat Major

Andante con gusto

Sapphire swirled through pink and lavender,
as yellow rimmed clouds
scattered softly across the sky.
Weeping willows swayed
to legatto sounds from the water-fall
and the gentle trill from the lake.
A catfish jumped on a dotted eight,
and a mallard silently went gliding by
while dew drops glistened on new grass.

Molto lento

The bench is still there,
by the tranquil waters.
Still there…since that early spring morning.
One very much like this one,
when she lifted her gaze
and first saw his face.

Allegro non troppo

C'est le printemps! Le jardin est enchanté!
She abandoned her book on the bench –
it’d been her excuse, any way.
This is the place where they’d meet;
away from curious eyes,
away from noise and idle talk.
Here, where the air is sweet and
sunlight dribbles through supple leaves
as their lips birth a new song.
They walked briskly
from opposite sides of the lake.
Her hair swept by the breeze,
they rushed the last few steps,
they met,
they touched,
they kissed.

Stacatto

Summer; come and gone.
The bench; she sits – waits.  
The book; read twice.
Fog looms over the lake.
The catfish rest.
Green turns yellow underfoot.
She heard it said
he has another’s hand.

Moderatto e con molto sentimento

The weather-beaten bench
still there, by the lake where she sits
holding a different book in her hand.
No use for the old one,
she knows the unfinished rhymes.

It is spring; like that one of long ago.
But the waterfall sings a different song,
and the colors, still sapphire
and lavender pink, matured
to deeper, richer hues;
the sun no longer yellow, but gold.

She drops her book on the bench –
it’s been an excuse, any way.
Not one, but two, come walking
from the other side of the lake.
She doesn’t run to them –
no need to; she walks.
They rush the last few steps.
They meet,
they touch,
they kiss.
One she calls husband,
the other, their son.

Carmen Ruggero .2006&2007