Morgan Siegel Poems
The Plague Doctor
Out in night, counting out the mites.
Lingers the dead-corrupt doctor.
Traveller and a traitor.
Hunter and a curer.
Stalker and a gawker.
feared by all.
People run and they cower.
Fear of the Plague Doctor.
They do not stay to wonder.
A poke to diagnose.
A prick to end the pain.
A flame to get rid of the remains.
Run, run from the doctor.
Pockets full of poison.
Drop dead! Drop dead!
There is no one left around.
Tears For Us All
...I have done so much, most of it heartache...
I take her hands in mine, we look deeply within each other.
She whispers to me, 'Go baby, it'll be okay.' we both smile.
We gently kiss, we pull away, I pick up my stuff.
I see all is well, until she turns away withdrawing.
She softly cries, I lower my head, and keep walking...
...Baby I am sorry, please forgive me...