A Valediction

Lingering smells of wood shavings

Rich tobacco, fruity and thinly wafting

Aftershave, and Sunday best.

A calico memory, gone to another home now

A home gone to another family

Before I was wise enough to grasp

With a man’s understanding handshake

All that is left are a few tokens and bright, red feathers

Assembled in a rough shape

Resembling you.


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I found it

Nestled against the twisted, drained

Husk of the driftwood tree

A shell, flame-white and

Half-buried in the cool

Silver sand

It looked so beautiful

In the moonlight

When I reached down

And picked it up

It broke into an endless

Shimmering stream of dust.

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The modern day Roman
In his chrome-gilt chariot
Drawn by hundreds of horses
Thunders into battle.

Today he is paid his salary
The salt of the new age.
He wields his scrawling sword
Leaving a trail of red ink.

Not for the glory of emperor
Country, creed, or god.
But for himself.
Mars rises in the sky as night nears.

His children are asleep in their beds
Just the same
As those of a far off city
In a long ago time.