The Bench At the Bottom of The Garden

There used to be a wooden bench at the bottom of the garden. Somewhere people could sit and watch the world go by. It was strong and sturdy and comfortable and it was in the perfect spot to catch the midday sun. As time passed the garden became over grown. The grass ran wild. The trees grew neglected and the branches broke under their own weight when no one came to tend them. The wooden bench became rotten and the struts broke into pieces. The bench is gone now. Nothing left but old, rotten pieces of wooden tangled among the overgrown bushes. Neglected. Forgotten.