A Strange Shade Of Dark

He walks without footsteps; no stranger he greets
His bowed head unseen; he’s the man who won’t speak
He fails to acknowledge those using the park
And then there’s his manner… a strange shade of dark

He’s never seen entering, nor does he leave
But daily he’s seen, so he’s real I believe 
And yet where he treads, he leaves not a mark
Above him the sky is a strange shade of dark

Rumours abound that he’s always around
As he grieves for a child who lies under the ground
For sure he lacks something one might call his ‘spark’
His sorrow it seems is a strange shade of dark

Does he work, does he not, does he live on the street
Does anyone, anywhere tell him he’s sweet
Is he builder, repairer or is life a lark
Perhaps he is simply… this strange shade of dark

Curiosity got me; I followed him once
I harboured the notion there’s something he hunts
He laboured a while as a lamp lit him stark
Yet still what I spied was a strange shade of dark

Why did he linger, why did he wait
Was I the prey and was he the bait
At once my gasp, was my only remark
The thought in my head was a strange shade of dark

There, neath the lamp, buried hilt deep in leaves
A blade as is held by both killers and thieves
The cops came as somewhere I heard a dog bark
The Fed’s sullen frown was a strange a shade of dark

The dark man now faced me and I wonder why 
The face that I see has a tear in its eye
Land excavators were soon in the park
And the feelings I have… are a strange shade of dark

scaryspiritualrhyme

♡Like0

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.