Questions Pondered on a Bench

An old wooden bench bearing somebody’s name.
Someone like me, who used to frequent this place
One hundred years ago.

Did they sit and watch the life here too;
The frolicking in and over and under and by
The clear river?

Did they sit and notice the subtle changes
In the sounds, scenery and sky
With each season?

Did they silently curse the boastful boat-owners –
Or wave from their bench
On the bank?

Did they admire the whispering willow tree,
Washing its branch-ends
In the Thames?

I close my eyes…
And listen.

Did they sit and listen
To the whirr of bicycle chains and the conversations
Of all life?

Or to the music of the water?

Did they, too, come here for solace?
To rebalance, unwind, de-stress -
Escape?