It Tells A Story

(I wrote this poem based on a photo:
http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d173/Box_of_Sharp_object_08/ParkBench.jpg)

It tells a story.
This lonely bench.
Of many tattered souls and hence
Hardships are poured onto its seat
Compassionate to all it greets
Catching driven, fallen tears
Of those who sit and ponder here.

It tells a story.
Rain or shine
Of precious moments; fleeting time
As seasons fade like people go
It waits upon this lonely road
Catching few leaves; Others fade
Inadequate. Had it betrayed.

It tells a story.
Your very own
Perhaps it wouldn't. Had it known
The pain inflicted by each day
Of people passing on their way
You leave it. A permanent scar
Yet it takes you for who you are.

Catching driven, fallen tears
Of those who sit and ponder here.