Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Look On His Face

I could tell from the look on his face that things were not going his way,  the numbers have been overwhelming but the people have been deceiving him; some people with bad intention tells him what he wants to hear but the reality is finally drawing near and redemption is shouting at the window but I could not tell from whence came that unpredictable sorrows.

The luster has gone out of his face and there was no music in the place and the universe was beckoning him to come. But he was reluctant to move. For one brief moment my eyes met his and the pupil and the retina began to sing without a specific rhythm. Something was not right and all of a sudden a shadow stood by his side and covers him.

The evening drags on and  he stumbles along. He stands on the stage with a strange look in his eyes as if someone for him had just died, his droopy eyelid sagged and the hair on his head lay flat and the suit that he was wearing laid haphazardly on him as if he was drinking.

The strength and power have gone out of his voice and the purpose has already die and the people were screaming and shouting but he could not hear them. He stood and stared blindly at them as if he wanted to cry but the tears could not flow.

The night kept rumbling on and I could hear a distance song but I could not tell where it was coming from. I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t have enough strength to complete the race. He was just going through the motions with solidarity in his heart but from the look of things he was running out of steam. The jokes were gone and his words were falling on the ground and the message was nowhere to be found.

I could tell from the look in his eyes that the rivers have gone dry not one single tear could be found in his eyes;  the people's laughter have faded, the shouts and screams have died down and gossip starts circling around. Election was definitely not on his agenda something bigger than that had captivated his mind.

 I have never seen him like that before with that sad droopy look on his face, you had better take him to golf court to recuperate before he drops out of the race.

I could tell from the look on his face that he detests being in that place and he was just going through the phase. Reality is just setting in and he has committed a woeful sin. It is time to start the orchestra.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2024

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