Details |
Franklin Powers Poem
The room was still when Power knocked—
not loud, not proud, but sure.
The Chair sat waiting, velvet-backed,
untouched, and made to endure.
The walls had yet to learn the weight
of promises unkept.
The carpet, clean—untrampled still—
knew nothing of secrets swept.
The pen was full, the desk was clear,
the seal uncracked, unswayed.
The nation watched, and History
leaned forward, unafraid.
And then—he entered, took a breath,
sat down without a sound,
and all the ghosts who’d come to sit
began to gather ‘round.
Copyright © Franklin Powers | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Franklin Powers Poem
The room was still when Power knocked—
not loud, not proud, but sure.
The Chair sat waiting, velvet-backed,
untouched, and made to endure.
The walls had yet to learn the weight
of promises unkept.
The carpet, clean—untrampled still—
knew nothing of secrets swept.
The pen was full, the desk was clear,
the seal uncracked, unswayed.
The nation watched, and History
leaned forward, unafraid.
And then—he entered, took a breath,
sat down without a sound,
and all the ghosts who’d come to sit
began to gather ‘round.
Copyright © Franklin Powers | Year Posted 2025
|