Heart of a Stranger
Looking through poetry both old and new
in the bookstore down the street
A certain paperback caught my eye
and I carried it to my seat
I opened the pages to copyright
and it was from fifty-three
For some reason that stood out
with no idea why that would be
My attention was soon drawn away
as someone opened the door
I looked up and saw a man
and I knew I had seen him before
He hid behind a long gray beard
clothes tattered as he shook
But something glistened in his eyes
as he walked over and got a book
He took a seat beside me
I nodded my head and smiled
He spoke to me in a gentle voice,
"How are you today, my child?"
"I am well, thank you"
was my quick reply
He noticed my chosen paperback,
as a tear streamed from his eye
"I see the book you've chosen,
I know the author well
He's been waiting for so long
for just one to sell
You know within those pages
lies his history
Life, death, hope, love
it's for all to see."
He then stood and walked away
to the adjoining coffee shop
Once I started reading my book
I found I couldn't stop
Hanging on his every word
it all came back to me
The stranger, the author that he knew
the year of fifty-three
He was the lonely drifter
I had seen not long ago
Right there in that coffee shop
and how I watched him so
He watched as people chose
the books upon the shelves
Skimming past the paperback
choosing another for themselves
The author that this stranger knew
I found to be himself
Many years he had been waiting
for his life to leave the shelf
I gladly bought my paperback
without thinking twice
For the heart of this stranger
had already paid the price
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