Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 16, 2016

Custodians of the Streets~by Norman Wilson



Custodians of the Streets

Quietly I shuffled my way along the narrow passageways
Passageways that held the black mysteries that only a backstreet could hold
Therefore, with my cane I tenuously tapped my way
Tapping, tapping along the old cobblestone roads

I do fret to avoid the precursor of light and dark
The keeper that holds day back from night
In nearing of my goal from whence I came before the rain
As the custodians hide behind the shadows of lamplight

The moor is but a courtyard away from the establishment for older prominent men of pedigree
It holds many lustful memories of rules broken on an enshrouded night of pleasures
Pleasures that was no more valued than an old empty bottle of rum castaway in the tether of foul weather

With grievous reason I dare not enter for the vixens’ demand of two pence
As those two pence, still might fill the need to pay my next rent
While safer thoughts steers me afar without solicitation
For my omens encompassing my journey shelters me from their pretence

There are keepers of the night that taunt their delights
Delights tempting my way to the courtyard past the moors
Where I make overtures in my mind to stride upon a line
To my tipsy pace tapping my cane in harbingers time

I am now safe within the courtyard under a streetlight
A light so bright it dazzles across the face of my wife
It was for her I ventured past the vixens’ den
For that is the tale I wish to share with you my friends

All rights reserved 04/11/16
Norman Francis

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