Upon a bench I sit and wait,
Beside the lonely stranger,
Our eyes they meet,
Then stare to ground.
Like two dogs in a manger.
At last he lights a smoke,
And with a witty joke.
Remarks about the dusty blue.
I partook in his smoky truth,
So calm so couth.
As we laughed at simple truths.
What a day and what men do.
He cried all through and through.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 8th, 2025 12:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
The truth lies beneath the surface. We all put on faces only to drop the mask on occasion. A metaphor as deep as the soul. I loved this poem and am giving it a fave.
The truth behind our mask, enjoyed the read
Well penned. The mask dropped. How poignant this piece was. Lovely write.
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