Posted on Saturday, November 03 @ 13:08:37 EDT

"Poetry: Old Dust And Stale Cigarettes" by rob



I watched him walking through the town
catching all the people's stares
and could tell they looked not at the man,
but the clothes and long grey hair.

As he drew closer I caught the smell
of old dust and stale cigarettes.
His face wore a mask of sadness
and the weight of past regrets.

Walking slowly by, he glanced my way
and in his eyes was a need to weep.
I could tell this once had been a strong man,
but the wounds in his heart were deep.

There was an old worn string around his neck
holding a medal called a purple heart
and anger rose in me this country discarded
an old soldier like an old used part.

I stopped him to ask if he needed work
and offered the man a meal.
Refusing politely, said he had to move on
and I knew he would never heal.

Months have went by, but I think of this man
and pray that he walks with Godspeed,
but I know his shoulders are tired of the load
and the wounds in his heart still bleed.

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