Her Bench

She sat
on the bench
in her park. 
Well, it wasn't hers
but at the same time
maybe it was.

As she sat 
on that bench, 
she dug into 
her knapsack
(yes knapsack 
because there's 
a difference).

As her hand 
explored the deep and 
mighty recesses of 
her knapsack, 
she listened 
to the world around her.
As he
plunked
down 
on her bench.

Yes her bench. 
Many things could be described as her's.
Anyways, she was rummaging through
her knapsack (looking for bubblegum)
when he sat down on
her bench.

He was wearing a large
many-flapped coat that 
made too much noise,
and held a pair of binoculars in one hand.
In the other was a book.
A sketch book.

She finally withdrew
her hand with the prize,
popped it in her mouth
and contemplated the space
between herself and
him. 

About three feet,
much to her 
relief. 
She sighed and
went back to listening.
He pressed his binoculars to his eyes.

She listened to
his even breathing
as he watched the trees above them
blow in the wind .
He put the
binoculars down.

He turned, looked at her.
As she pop, crackle, snapped
her gum, transfixed on some
random but quite 
interesting point
straight ahead of her.

She listened as
he picked up his book,
and once again looked 
at her. 
He pulled out a pencil
pressed it hard into the pages.