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Jim Stewart

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Member Since: Jul, 2008

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Old Park Bench
by Jim Stewart → (All Poetry by Jim Stewart)
   Rated "G" by the Author.
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If walls could talk.

In Brownwood, Texas, (Population 25,000) there is a town square. On one end of the square is the county jail, where Candy Barr, the stripper, was incarcerated. On the other end is a row of stores that have been there for ever. There's the candy shop, a hardware store, a fix-it shop and the "Corner Drug Store". In that drug store they had a soda fountain where they had to mix the soda. Cherry-Coke was my favorite. On the outside of that Drug Store was an "Old Park Bench." This was a happening spot. People could come down to that area and bring the kids and let them go to Candy Shop then play in the court yard. I drove by there the other day, the stores have changed and the jail is just a historical building now, but that "Old Park Bench" is still there.

The Old Park Bench

By Jim Stewart, c 2008

In a litle town

In a little square

Sits a park bench

That looks so bare

But oh the memories

It could share.

 

People would come

From miles around

Just so they could sit right down

On that "Old Park Bench"

 

Women's gossip would fly

And kids would play

And old men would pass their time away

On that "Old Park Bench"

 

Now people come

And people go

Stories and initials were left

On that "Old ParK Bench."

 

 

 


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 Reviews of "Old Park Bench"
Reviewed by 000 000 (Reader)
Reviewed on October 3, 2008
Old park benches are not as many these days. It seems people are afraid to sit for fear of robbers. Thanks for the memory,
CarolHawks

Reviewed by Karen Palumbo
Reviewed on July 17, 2008
Such wonderful memories to hold onto, no matter how much time has passed....

Be always safe,
Karen

Reviewed on July 17, 2008
Poignantly captured in a few lines, the Old Park Bench - oh, if it could talk, the stories it would tell! Well done, Jim.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

Brownwood not THAT far from Burleson ... LOL

Reviewed by Frank Whyte
Reviewed on July 17, 2008
Jim:

I love the quaintness of America's small towns and the simplicity of your poem perfectly illustrates this feel.

Rock on, Brother!

F


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