A Valentine’s Day poem?
Certainly. (Who needs clichés)
He was seventy-two
While she was twenty-eight.
A round number – Perfect!
Though only they thought that.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
They said not a word
For not a word need be said
A cloud of silence
Always accompanied them
Others looked on bathed in awe
Those who put
The ‘big’ in bigotry
Are those who keep
The ‘small’ in small-minded
The suicide decided after all to cross the river.
Styx a stone’s throw away – Too many thrown stones.
Crossed over now into who knows what or where. Into
who knows beneath all that faith and charity after all?
Cruelly abandoned by us all; backed up into corners.
All those accusatory closed doors, shuttered windows.
Words not the sole way to show a soul’s distress though.
Tiny gestures, reactions, dress choice speak volumes;
sightlessness alive and well among the seeing.
The suicide decided to cross the river.
(Styx a stone’s throw away after all.)
Many too many thrown stones.
And words not the sole way
to show a soul’s distress.