Hordes Of Faces Poem by Paul Reed

Hordes Of Faces



A rain-spattered Saturday
Light slowly fading
Shop lights beginning to burn,
Empire Theatre copper dome
Standing green in the gloom
‘The Lion King' about to adjourn;

Hordes of faces
Passing me by on either side
Their pallor as of a ghost,
All on their way to somewhere
Somewhere they might get to
If not all the way, almost;

People talking, joking and walking
Defying the feelings inside
Grandly touring the street,
But inside disappointment churning
Another long, despairing day
Another bitter defeat;

I stand and watch next to a gravestone
All broken down and forgotten
But in faded letters, a seed,
For I can make out chiselled yesterdays
Long-lost yesterdays
And the magical name of ‘Reed'

Am I a descendant?
Am I a loved one?
Standing under this grey sky,
None of the people can see me
They just keep on walking
As their ghostly faces pass by

Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: memories
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success