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


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.”

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