The Bench

Lying on the bench, wind kissing my face
A robin lands next to me
Looking at me, I smile
Am I Dreaming?

Holding out my hand, it sits on my finger
I must be dreaming

Reach over to hold it
The bird flies away
I wasn’t dreaming

Chasing away the dream, sadness drops
Contemplating
Watching birds fly

A smile occurs
Looking, wondering which one visited me
Feeling lucky at being chosen to share that moment