This bench

This bench 

Like its brothers has never discriminated

From derriere to derriere or bag from bag

It has stood firm

It's concrete base

Weathering dust storms and rain and trash and crow bajsas

It has united and can seat

4 large children

5 uncomfortably ,squeezed moderately chubby teenagers or

6 tiny first graders

Headquarters for 

Girls gossiping 

Boys horsing around

Cliques occupying territory

Love birds courting

Never deceiving, 

It tells you when there are too many seated 

Yet it is kind

And its brothers sit at its shoulder's sides 

Like outstretched hands 

And if you kneel a little 

You could sit between two groups

 This rather unloved bench

Nobody to cool it down on summers

When it can't bear the weight of sunlight anymore

Nobody to keep it warm in winters

When it can't bear the weightlessness of the chill

Rather unloved

Nobody takes selfies with it on their farewells

Nobody tags it on their timelines for all the good days 

Or the bad days

 Or just days where

You've seen me glorious

You've seen me grotesque

Under-loved or rather unloved

Nobody calls you bae or bae-nch or seatie

Even though it's always been our before anyone else's on days

Where we couldn't support ourselves

Wise

It's seen my ancestors

And my descendants

And this soil we still call home

Yet you still sit silently
Waiting for us to come home already