An Orange wooden bench standing between the green branches and the wooden fence,
Telling stories of love, life and abandon

A story of a gray-hair couple who sits close to each other on that Orange wooden bench,Their hands are held together as if they are newlyweds
Their hands are held together because one of them lost sight but not love
He goes, walks with his hand in hers, he wears no black lenses glasses nor he has a stick,He has his hand held with hers for years, forever and even while they are sitting on the Orange wooden bench

Or a story of another couple with fresh sparkling rings in their fingers,
Her head lies on his shoulder while they are sitting on the Orange wooden bench,
Wondering about when the sun will go down then rise again,
When tomorrow becomes today,How many tomorrows they will share
And how many yesterdays they will pass by

Or a story of a person put his name on the Orange wooden bench years ago and comes back to find it, Yet it is covered with layers of Orange fur,
His name was forgotten, but the Orange wooden bench never erased his name.