Monday, February 6, 2012

VI: An Evening Walk

The wet streets were shining
under the gas lamps.
Cold air was blowing
under a mist-cloaked moon.

Along the sidewalk,
Albert stepped with leisure,
having nowhere to go.
With the rain finally ended,
he folded his black umbrella
and wielded it casually as a cane.

He moved in and out
of elm-shadows shifting in the wind,
and passed by quiet shops,
their eyelids closed for the night.

He encountered
several solitary strangers
walking towards him.
He nodded politely,
but their solemn faces,
still as bas-reliefs
in the half-light,
showed not a flicker of fondness
as they passed him by
without any hint of greeting.

The man may as well have been
composed of pure spirit,
rather than his own warm flesh,
for all the acknowledgment
he received of his corporeal presence.

He entered into a more vibrant district,
more brightly lit, and with a wide view of the sky
in which white wisps of clouds
chased swiftly across a blind void.

Revelers abounded in the streets,
comradery the keynote,
enjoyment of good company
the evening's occupation.

But that lively neighborhood
was shrouded by a growing fog
in Albert's dim and weary eyes.

He passed through
the midst of the people,
like a vapid ghost,
unnoticed and unknown.

He heard their conversations
and their shared laughter.
He felt the collective warmth
of their gathered humanity.

And finding a vacant side street,
he escaped into its shadows
as a cold rain began to fall again.

2 comments:

frictional.org said...

So this is it in its poem form. I like it much better this way.

Todd said...

Thanks frictional - this is the original form of the piece (with a few edits based on feedback from the WF post). Glad you liked it.

Oh, and thanks for being the first non-spam comment I've received on this blog since my very first post. Thanks for visiting. ---todd