Old Sir Herman
Glancing at him from the window's glass,
It felt as though the railway had taken away his joy.
Sometimes his hard stares or into nothingness.
Being nouveau to the town; from my madam I heard his tale,
He was a miser with her, his woven bag of pearls.
Her Milkyway skin had an equivalence to jade,
Lips rosy from his unending kisses,
Even though she was his, and a peasant thereof,
Her garment smelled of class and nothing less.
His childhood had been a blasphemy, an abusive pa,
And a public town helper for a ma.
Famously known as a child bathed in blows and scum,
In his childhood he was pitied by no one.
More the reason he lost her to a forever moving train,
With the prince as its driver.
I must have hit an item to the floor,
As he turned to face me directly - grunting like the old man he is,
Wearily he headed back to the lovers' bench,
Where he once sat with his love;
Gazing and laughing at the passengers who had been left behind.
Copyright © Deborah Chukwu | Year Posted 2023
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