The wooden bench

LET’S SHARE—MAYBE SOMEONE WHO COULD HELP…IS OUT THERE?

Creative minds.

We met at a cafe through some site , we chatted the whole night , feeling the cold breeze..

It was late , but we didn’t want this time to end , to stop make me feel more special.

It was nothing that day but lots of everything.

I could still feel myself lost in that place till the date ,i could feel myself wanting to get lost once again.

His eyes of curiosity to know about me , and me to get to know his nature.

I can still feel the cold wodden bench we were sitting on, under the shade at night at a distance of 5 feet.

I could hear the water running at night , wind passing by ears, cold air making our hands cold and nose red , we shared our likes and dislikes.

Next day , we shared…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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