The Bench at the End of Pederson Street

 

My Husby and me, when our walks are complete,

Well, we both need somewhere to rest our poor feet,

So we two make our way (in a manner discreet),

To our bench at the end of Pederson Street.

 

It is peaceful right there and the sun, we do greet,

We watch people go by, casual or athlete,

Yes, from there we watch life, it seems pretty complete,

From that bench at the end of Pederson Street.

 

We talk of the past and the memories sweet,

Of those days—what we’ve learned in the world, bittersweet,

Of the triumphs (they’re there), and the breakthroughs complete,

All discussed on that bench on Pederson Street.

 

Diseases removed and some new ones to meet,

A wide-reaching pandemic with terrors replete,

And a host of world problems designed to defeat,

Covered best on the bench on Pederson Street.

 

When climatic changes, our planet mistreat,

Disasters of nature, or manmade appete,

When the natural world thrums like a drumbeat,

We’ll solve all on that bench on Pederson Street.

 

A bunny hops by, leaving tracks small and neat,

A soft breeze wafts on through and it smells warm and sweet,

There is peace come to life with no trace of deceit,

And we see it all there on Pederson Street.

 

If it’s peace that you lack and you feel incomplete,

And this life’s become worrisome, don’t state defeat!

There is peace and a place for you here. Take a seat,

On our bench at the end of Pederson Street.