Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 11, 2016

Daily missive breaks into the weekend Sunday the 11th of December.~by Peter Forster


 

 

Daily missive breaks into the weekend Sunday the 11th of December.

Is he a stranger
There is no recognition
Little acknowledgement
Nothing stops
Even the moorhens
Continue
To play chase
With the ducks.
The blackbirds dust
Themselves down
Rolling and tumbling in dirt
Mud wrestling
Before chasing off through
The hedgerow.
How do they not
Clip their wings
When they rarely miss
A window.
Is he even seen
There is so little substance
To his being
When no one
Knows his name.
Just another shadow
A man on the street
Walking
Into the fog
Not even a dog
To keep him company
Is he insane
Or just in pain.
Soaked by the mizzle
Inadequately dressed
For the weather
On this damp
December day
A shopping frenzy
Left behind
No one to buy for
Not now.
He is soon gone
Walking the canal
At the steady pace
Of a narrow boat
Swallowed
Up by the mist
Did he even
Exist.


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