My Final Round

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.