The lonely bench

My beach...My bench.
I like to think of it that way at least, as i stroll along the sea front, sorting through my head of cluttered thoughts and breathing in the salty sea air. I have been to some beautiful places in my life, seen the snow-topped mountains of derbyshire, even climbed one, the deep valleys of the lake district and green grassy hills of wales, but nothing beats my bench, my place of comfort.
I reach my destination and take a minute to absorb the scene in front of me when it strikes me that i may not be the only person who thinks of this bench as my own...how many other people have stopped in this very place over time, different people of all ages?
Children have climbed on it, with their rapidly melting ice-cream. Elderly couples have sat on it, with fish and chips, enjoying the waves and memories. Young couples gazing into each others eyes and longing for nothing more than to get away from this very bench, this very town. What things must this weathered bench have seen,what stories could it tell?
Here it sits, in silent solitude, watching the world go by...I like to join it in doing so sometimes.

I dream of travelling, and leaving this small town behind, every day it seems to get smaller and smaller, being right on the coast doesnt help the feeling of isolation, big fish in a small pond they say...destined for bigger things. I only pray this is true.
But where else would i find such a place of contentment...than this worn out companion and the memories of yesterday.