Old Bench Tale

Old man sitting on a weathered bench so cold what are you thinking, what have you been told.
I sometimes wonder if life's a story or an acting cast, the line's and the parts for the present or past.
People following the music to the sounds of it's beat softly to a rhythm of mystical feats.
They all pass by me without a glimpse or a sign, I'm a man of nowhere,an antique of time.
But for you and me, and all who have served, will soon be sitting at that bench marked reserved.