I never felt how hard this bench was
When I came here as a boy
Lingering over the softer places
My fingers found employed
The buttons of a too tight blouse
Hiding a wonderous joy
If only I could get them loose
But I was but a boy
Less hard is the bench these days
Now that age creeps up on me
And fingers have much less to find
When I can let them free
and all around the birds still sing
and stare down from the trees
and I struggle to bet loose
what once was easy for me
splinters dig deep into my bones
my soul aches for those days
when I could sing like bird
and let my hands find their way
into softness I have not felt in years
or let myself make hay
and now I live with wishes and dreams
from those half remembered days
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