Little Man
little man
lost
in the real estate
of his mind
not knowing
the layout
of what
he might find
clouded
by the dust
of his ego’s broom
stirring up memories
from a
childhood room
no one in the
morning
strangers
in the night
who what
when where
the mantras
of his fright
fed from
paltry pantries
filled
with stale delights
a star dimly shining
on a grey
summer night
he’s not sure
he’s made it
or what he even
made
light falls
to failing
his poems
signed
verses
thin lines
diagrams
and rhymes
clinging to the
outside
of an inside
that never was
turning towards
innocence
not knowing
why
just because.
Copyright © Joseph Adler | Year Posted 2016
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