He who sits on the bench

He who sits on the bench,
White shirt and his corduroy pants,
Gazing at the sun,
With his sunglasses on,
Waiting for someone.

He who sits on the bench,
And holds a bouquet of rose,
For someone special,
He couldn't stop smiling,
She is lucky, that girl.

He who sits on the bench,
Keeps checking his watch,
"She was never late"
He prepared everything,
For it's not a regular date.

He who sits on the bench,
With his right hand in his pocket,
As if he's holding something,
Cubic and round like shape,
Definitely a ring.

He who sits on the bench,
Begins to wonder,
"Is she coming?"
His hope begins to waver,
Until his phone starts to ring,

He who sits on the bench,
I wonder who's calling him,
Dad finally shows up,
I have to go,
But what happens next,
I guess I'll never know.