Saturday, April 28, 2012

the return of the vagrant...

His entry was announced
By gunshot-sounds
Midday tavern rattled and bullets bounced...
On silver belt buckles...

She at the counter then
Was trying to few words pen
To her ailing father...in town
But the dusty outside maze
Stopped her writeup and she gazed
At the weakly bolted door
And anticipatory dread in her soared...

After a few minutes...
The gun shots ceased
As if the battle finished...
And with a thud loud
A man in gray beard and eyes with doubts
In tattered jeans and unshaven face
Bootlegged an entry made...

He walked in as if hurt
She could see drops of blood
Reddening slow his shirt pocket left
As if redness he there bred...

He poured a swig straight through his throat
From his pocket red towards his body did float...

The dying man then brought out
From somewhere of the dusty coat
A girdle unharmed...made of rubber stout
And handing her the thing
Weakly for the last time he to her beamed...

She opened the girdle with her nervous fingers
Into it she found how golden coins lingered
Like a parting gift from a friend
'For your father's treatment'...
The man said and fainted...

She then looked closely at the man
With closed eyes didn't he resemble
A long lost horrible man
Who left her in the lonely tavern?
Who went from her away
Seeking fortunes in a vagrant way?

No comments:

Post a Comment

The State Funeral

At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut,  She could not have spoken for  The rare award,  The police have done the th...