He Was

A specter, ever present,
He walked the streets
of the old mill town
long past the heyday of his life
as was the town itself
heavy soles on his shoes,
one thicker than the other
thick shanks, for uneven legs
hobbled by birth, by a hard life
heavy frock coat hanging like a weight
slumped gait, hunched shoulders
Jet black toupee, like an all black skunk
perched over salt and pepper brows
wings over his ears, perched there,
sunken eyes, smell of the bourbon,
the ripple, rye on his breath,
the smudge of the cigars
snubbed out in his fingers,
Hands that built, that made things
long fallow then, long ago
A ghost, walking among the vacant buildings
blocks of the ancient metropolis
dormant itself too, hoping for rebirth
He in the sun, furtively, back into shadows
comfortable at night mostly,
wandering his hometown


Edited – August 16, 2012
new poem – “He Was”
May 28, 2007 23:58
“Leon”
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2007/05/leon.html


All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,710+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.