When we were in love,
we sat on the park bench
and adored the trees.

They were dazzling.

We really had no final farewell, you and I.
Our time together simply drifted away.

Now, a lifetime later,
I've returned to our bench.
Its spirit, abandoned,
or perhaps sleeping.
The trees seem hollow,
pretending they don't remember
me, you.

Us.

I wonder if their memories were swept up in the wind
when their golden leaves fell to the ground,

certain to scatter,
destined to fade.