You’ll find me everywhere you go
From mountains high to valleys low
And in your haste from A to B
My resting place you fail to see.
But there are times you take a break
Relaxing in the change of pace
When you stop to take a photograph
Of ancient walls and epitaphs.
Those are the moments, at ease and alone,
You answer my call to your weary bones.
As you rest your eyes on a foreign scene
Your thoughts escape to a village green
To a culture and language you understand
To a bench like me in your native land.
Jean Reinhardt 2015