Poetry of Sherry Campbell

"A Lady Born Out Of Time"

 

Unnamed

A slender silhouette passed the black-gum trees

As crisp, red leaves drifted in the autumn nights breeze

And street lamps glared from their sentinel posts

As in decision of whether to be or not to be host

To this person, this stranger, or perhaps ghost.

 

"New in these parts or just passing through?"

Hailed a voice from the corner, as the stranger came into view,

"Don't want no trouble, I'm the town watchman, you see

And most folks in our town, well their like family."

"Family?", echoed the tired old man.

His voice as shaky as the thin-fingered hand

he offered the watchman as a greeting

on this lonely, November chance night meeting.

 

Family's a word I seldom ever hear

See I've been alone for many a year.

And since my wife, Jesse, passed on in fifty-four

It's just not been much to life anymore.

So, I started wandering from town to town

hoping maybe, one day, I'd find a place and settle down.

 

"Come," said the watchman, "Rest your weary self my friend

Let's have a warm cup of coffee and just talk,

Before you continue your long walk.

 

As the two shared stories from youth until now

A recollection between them was beginning somehow.

Could it possibly be? The watchman thought as he learned

the same orphanage they once lived had just been confirmed

By the wanderer, who'd been left alone there

While his brother was placed in some family's care

Nevermore to see each other again.

With only memories of those times back then.

Until now....The Watchman cried, with outstretched arms,

All the years of being alone!

No more a wanderer, my brother.....You're finally HOME.

 

Sherry Campbell ©1987

 

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