Notes About The Poem
The third and final poem in the Words Mean Nothing trilogy.
Nothing
The hour is late,
And it's clear that my date
Will not be showing
So I accept my fate
The park lamps begin glowing
The murky sunset forfeits, knowing
That its beauty will forego
The river within my eyes it's rowing
Out of pursed lips I blow
A lonely tune to those passing, even-so
To my dismay, a reply echoes late
I turn despite what I already know
An old man sits lightly, his gait
Suggests he had been less active of late
Disheveled, yet his smile, ever-growing,
Moved me toward his yearning pate
Keeping a respectful distance, throwing
A smile up to hide the pain that's growing
He says "People rarely live so slow."
In a voice crisp as the wind that's blowing
It's true, I knew, and yet even-so
I replied to him simply "Oh?"
He said "Son, I used to hate
The sun. It would remind me with its glow
Of all the things I've lost in haste."
Expecting more, I stand and wait
For an answer to the question he's imposing
"What's your name?" I ask, probing fate
"Me? I'm Nothing." He said, forgoing
An answer. "I'm not all-knowing,
But I've seen enough sorrow
To know when a hard wind's blowing."
"You carry your pain wherever you go
Because words beget action, though
Your actions dictate fate.
Look at me, boy. Words mean nothing, no?"
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