For My Dearest Elizabeth

At the request of one of my BFF's, I am posting some of my other poems from my class this summer:

Almost Perfect

My eyes graze over the brown bench where I sit
and fall upon the inscription where my back had been.

It says, “In Memory of Dan Osborne”
and I wonder, who is Dan Osborne?
and more importantly, what happened to him?
that he lives on this ordinary, brown bench.

Waves lap steadily against the dock
on this almost perfect day.
As I sit on Dan’s tombstone,
that was to me just a bench,
mere minutes ago,
I wonder if he has seen these waves before.

I want to imagine Dan’s going
As gentle as the breeze that brushes my face
As if he was lead, slowly and gracefully, to a better world
in the care of lapping waves.
I imagine his aged wife
coming to this very brown bench
and elegantly remembering their almost perfect days.
I imagine Dan’s life ending without further wish
with people he loved
remembering only the good he left behind and
could not come back to.

But something, something strong inside of me
surrounds me with its disbelief.
I try to escape it, but it
Tugs, tugs at my soul.

Something tells me that Dan’s perfect death didn’t happen
for him or for anyone else that has strolled this boardwalk.
maybe he lost his life in the turbulent waves
that to me, in this moment, are my father’s green eyes
gazing calmly back at me.
maybe no one is here to remember him anymore
maybe he did not leave that much good behind
maybe he is simply a name on this brown bench.