Saturday, March 28, 2009

The Smiler

Dim and shaded lamp
Scratched gold painted post
Sidewalks mostly clean
Shufflers mostly cold.

Walk below the lights,
Breath both warm and stirring
Watching out for cars,
People in a hurry

Often passersby
Do not stop and talk
Hearts wrapped up in news,
Mouths like moistened chalk.

Hooded figure smiles
From underneath a joke
Peering through the silent night’s
Dark unsuccessful cloak.

If ever were a warm heart
That beat beneath a coat
The smiler’s sure to notice it
And make a mental note.

And in an earnest prayer
A light beyond the stars
Beams bright from each benevolent will
That Smiler sees and marks.

A watcher of the folks
Wrapped in a hooded coat
Unnoticed by the passersby
The sharpest mind, the keenest eye
To whom no falsity or lie
Makes any sense or any life
No application to the words
Devoid of life, but only those
Sincerest, true, and unafraid
To fall into a cold parade
While shuffling down and passing doors:
It could be my street, could be yours.

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