The gray man who lived up here,
Roberts, or Robertson, it never mattered,
would sit on that porch
when the sun brushed up against the rosy cusp
until it melted out to indigo.
Watched what passed down that street,
and in his subtle face, passed judgment,
absolute and irreconcilable.
I never heard the man speak,
but the wild-faced kids who passed stood straight and understood,
in stained jeans and button-ripped shirts with
hair like hay-
we stood with backs like shafts of spears,
and eyes straight ahead, nervous and bold,
our shields down to present the callow warrior's facade
as he watched and judged-
Ave caesar! Morituri te salutamus!
A contest entry
- A character Indeed by Emmyb.
760 points, ended March 16, 28 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Very interesting!
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great write
captivating, inspiring and moving. a great contest entry. thanks for entering this little gem.
Emma
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