The Bench on Main Street
Weather worn and plain
Meant to rest the weary
Is nevertheless empty
Each time I pass by…
The Bench on Main Street
Weather worn but oh, so rare
Is where we used to meet
On sun-lit eves a while ago
Before miles came between
And ended a chapter that
Enriched us so.
Dear Hildegard,
I passed that bench
The other day
And you were sitting
There…
Waiting with your
Smile so warm
And your little bag of
Clipping fare
My imagination
Put you there
As happy thoughts
Enveloped me…for
only you and I will ever know
the singular joys
Of meeting there, on the
Bench on Main Street
Very plain, but oh, so rare!
Irene Wildgrube lives in Pennington. “Many years ago when I was writing for the Hopewell Valley News, I was sent to the Straube Center on assignment. I liked Hildegard Straube from the moment we met, and I think the feeling was mutual. We became friends. This poem is written in her memory.”
