I saw a young man.
Saw him lean casual by the counter, waiting.
Saw him list as he walked, his cup cradled.
Saw him lower himself in a chair.
And pushing his case a measured distance,
saw him slump forward, open and lift
a notebook onto the table;
and using the effort of both arms,
slide it slowly towards himself,
such painfully long inches to go.
And if I were half a poet I could show you here,
how his pain was of a wounded dog,
a sparrow with a broken wing.
But I could also simply tell you,
how in one second my heart fell
and flooded me helpless and hurt
at the way he held up a smile
under those endless paralytic seconds,
that broke the surface of daily delusion
and swept me out of my head.
Your words are worth a thousand pictures! Beautifully done.
Thank you Sam!
Bravo, bravo…very moving; love the way it ended; my head felt the same way!
Lisa, Thank you for saying this. You’re kind.
A beautiful painting with words – your images so precise and in the present moment. Thank you again!
Thank you Ellen! My aspiration is to be the poetic equivalent of one of your paintings.
Excellent portrait, Stephen. This is really wonderful!
Thank you Wolfgang. Very much appreciate your words.