by Robert Lloyd Jaffe
As your gaze
settles late
on the hazy windswept
hills
breathe in the dust
from the city, and factories,
and mills.
He worked there
23 years
got dressed every morning
and slept every night
had a number
for a name
children who loved him
and a wife
filled with blame.
Think of him
as you look
and smell
and watch the smoke
rise
and of the morning
the bright sun
couldn’t open his
eyes.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
I am an observer and listener of the music of life. Where I find cadence, I find my interest and passion directed. It can be sound, light, smell, or purely an experience of thought. The sky, the sea, the mountains, and the machines that allow me to explore those places draw my attention, and give me serenity.
Last updated May 06, 2016