Stranger’s Rest

The plaque is worn, the name erased,

dates blurred by unkind haste.

A bench beneath a maple’s shade,

a stranger’s rest where memories fade.

A gust sends cup tumbling slow,

drawing eyes to words below.

Who sat here long before me?

What stories lost beneath the tree?

Leaves drift down like quiet breaths,

covering time, covering deaths.

I sit, unsure, a witness bare—

sharing space with absence there.