Tip Top

Tip Top
By Ian W.G. Sparkman

Some day in the past, or future, a little old man sits alone on a bench. This bench is nowhere, and everywhere, in particular. People walk around him and this bench, not paying any mind to the little old man. Nothing looks distinguishing about this little old man, other than his expression.

He sits there, day after day, pondering about all that he did, or will do, with or to his life. Then other thoughts creep right on in and disrupt his pondering.

Some days he is happy, some mad, and others just there watching it all play past his landscaped mind. Watching memories that are faded, or not yet created, that is the life of the little old man on a bench in the middle, or edge, of nowhere, and everywhere, without a limit on time.