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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3888 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention On His Way Home (Revisited) Christopher Francis Bowers It seems strange to me now But once I watched a man die Saw the life run from his eyes As he stared at me Stared past me But I felt nothing inside No sadness or pity Not even guilt His eyes searching Bewildered I almost laughed at him As he hung onto his case To the very end Afraid to lose it Have it stolen Slipping from the bench He hung onto it as if As if it were life itself That case They laid it on top of him On top of the blanket that covered him Covered his face The ambulance took him away Took his case Which would be given to his wife Who With sad hands would open it Who With sad eyes would stare into it Stare past it His newspaper An empty sandwich tin That smelt of tuna and cucumber An old red faced calculator She would cry Those that were left Stared at each other Stared past each other And stole away I caught the train home to my wife Later I watched her cry |
