Wooden

The Earth takes back the forgotten wooden bench,
left damned to rot, to take on water and vines and graffiti.
The Earth takes it back, it's Brother's rooted next to it clinging up and down the frame work.
Left to be shit on by the birds who couldn't imagine being chained to one location
Or
Are they placing their own social statement over the long taxed copy of a copy of a copy man made corporation made graffiti, that one who knows not to read knows MEANS nothing?
This is why I do not plunge my knife into it's wooden grain textured surface, for certain defacement is only desperate nothing.
The green, The green of the River, The green of the forest, The green stands out as I sit upon the bench that has seen hell
And is still being reclaimed by our Mother.