The sky began to pour out rose petals
& you sat stoic in your chair
Your face focused on the newspaper headlines
Your shoulders flinched at the hand I put there

You were sitting at a park bench
Surrounded by all matters of feathers & fowl
Your eyes skimming words in columns
& the world moved around you & your thinking scowl

When I called your name you were far away
Sitting in a corner hiding in black & white
You were draped in newspaper
And I was bathed in stunning sunlight

Paint chipped & flaking away on old benches
Each one had been visited by you
Before they even started to age
And before trees found their shadows from after they grew

You took a spoonful of poisonous apprehension
I listlessly sipped at smiles & sorrow as prescribed
I told you to take it in, little bits at a time
But you downed a whole bottle of life

The next day the park bench was bare
& your chair was empty of your different shades of gray
Autumn leaves fell upon the newspaper that took your place
You were the headlines that day

They almost had no purpose now
All those empty benches and chairs
Your ghost has graced those morbid places
& I felt you flinch as I sat & remembered there