Come one, come all, throw in your coins and take a round. (modified acrostic poem) |
My Final Round If you stand under the lamp On the corner of 42nd street Right around midnight You'll see him. A man known only as The Hermit. Nobody knows who he is Or where he came from But the rumors suffice And I know them all. So take a second Unbear your burden Hear my story, What have you to lose? A story about A man known only as The Hermit of 42nd street.. In a smaller town About sixty years ago Melancholic rain fell to the ground as Some nameless kid was born On April Eleventh. The parents orphaned him In the sense of mind, at least Really it's a given Everyone saw him praying, yet Darkness fell and still, he wandered. Christianna was the supposed name Of his mysterious suitor Night fell and you'd see them Free as a cloud Utterly alone in this world Save for the other Evening came around, alas they'd Dissapeared into the night. Laying out under the stars On a night much like this Some say he does it still - They lied in wait, alone together. Dying ever so slow Youthful in the waning light Immortal as her dark closed eyes Never could the young couple Guess at the heir of their love's curse. Slowly but surely It happened, you see On this very night Forty some odd years ago The girl was doomed to die- It gave them one more similarity Their place in life mattered as much. Under a canopy of willow trees By a slowly crawling stream West of town a few miles And then a smidgen to the south Twenty minutes ride, perhaps That's where he buried her. In a field by her grave Was a patch of beautiful flowers Once a week from there he picked The prettiest flower he could spy The best for your wishes, aye? Came one week, though A dreadful thing happened It drove the lad to tears Such an awful phenomenon.. In his very hand The flower crumbled to ash Right before his eyes. Down on my knees The lad choked out his final words, Every last thing I loved, Goodbye. Though, on an odd note I question whether the Relationship was that of Love, as much companionship. It is in his own words Sleep softly, my dear The friend I deemed a sister Sweet dreams, and soft. And tonight, a night much Like any other you'd have The old hermit approached The train station with His last dime, and he Told the conductor with A none too pent up sigh- What the hell, my friend, Let's take a final spin Around the city of a place Known only as 42nd street. |