the bench is cold but welcoming.
there are things i’m noticing
like just how beautiful one room can be
for a mother or a father or simply me.
and the plans that shaped it
for the hands that built it
they were likely feeling lucid
that God himself would lose it
with his first glance of such
a labor of love
statuettes of angels rimmed
like roses on a cake
meticulous, without mistake.
it’s no wonder people get on their knees
and sing
in a room like this, it’s a grandiose reminder
that at least someone out there was thankful to be alive