| Biographical Poetry
posted April 19, 2017
Stand in my shoes
It was inevitable. I know me. Often,I fall to shattered. Still I keep doing it. Over and over.
Those eyes of his- piercing, sharp, sad. His face mapped like the rugged terrain of a hard fought war. Unshaven, deliberately. Lips thin, soft and weathered. The slightest upturn in the corners-as if to say- I was happy once. I think he was younger than he appeared to be. Afraid to ask. His well worn chambray shirt begged mending. Rolled to the elbows. Muscular but thin arms, large calloused hands. A bit shakey. Nervous perhaps. He walked with a slight tilted gait . Slow, cautious. Had his style changed from youth? His virile days of manhood. I am sure. Broad shoulders bent ever so a tad. Possibly from the weight of life's burdens.- but still staunch enough to detect a certain pride. We gazed deeply. Infinitely. Boring into each other's souls. His eyes averted quickly toward the darkening horizon. He returned with a hesitant smile. Warm and sensitive, though visibly worn and tarnished from a day's pack. Still... he was drawing.
Thunder rumbled. Rain began to fall gently. He folded his day's advertisement with skill. Invited me to sit. This humble abode. Scattered paper cups. Discarded butts. A rumpled newspaper weighted by a special cap. Much I could say. We talked. We laughed. He was so much like me. His dreams held close to the bosom of his spirit. Afraid to let them go, for he knew not how to chase them.
I rose to leave. We shook hands- this man and I- crossing each other's world- for a moment. Just a moment in time. Returning to my car, I cried.
held in a grocery cart
Written from my iPhone. No picture.
and 2 member cents.
My experience today. Lake Charles, La.
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