Yesterday’s Hero
No hero this
pavement man
who sat on slashed red vinyl
for thirty years
polishing shoes
outside the station.
No hero this
bewhiskered face
and easy smile
of yellow gravestone teeth
and fresh breath mints.
No hero this
old leather skin
and knobbled hands,
a shoe-shine brush
held tight
by arthritis.
No hero this
but still a whistle
of morning jazz
and newspaper salute
and scent of
cherry blossom.
8 comments:
A great tribute.
Delightful, Rachel
Love the way the repetition of "no hero this" belies the words.
Hero, indeed...still whistling!
Yeah, you've captured the essence of the picture and painted a sequel with words. Good stuff!
This was very friendly and inviting in tone -- somehow familiar in tis feel... liked it! ;)
Thanks for stopping by, Rob. Kind words, thank you.
Very nice homage poetry.
Thank you :)
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