I was sitting in my usual place by the side of the path, and I was a little angry that day. People had been sitting on me and not really noticing that I have feelings, too!

I, my friend, am a park bench, and you do not even want to know the number of times I have been abused. People stick their nasty gum on the bottom of my seat, the birds splatter their “gifts” all over the top, and the rain beats mercilessly down on my wooden panels and rusty metal armrests.

People appreciate the scene around me, of course… the majestic trees and the lowly daisies sprouting in the middle of the lawn (because they haven’t been trampled by rowdy dogs or children). My favorite thing about the park, though, would be the tranquility of the park on a cool summer’s night, with the lamps shining the way for couples holding hands and slowly walking along the path.