Untitled by BJ Neblett

Here's a poem from a younger and more, shall we say, romantic BJ. Then again, looking at some of my more recent work, I guess not that much has changed... life goes on.

Enjoy,

BJ

Untitled

by BJ Neblett

© 1970, 2013

I sat until the old man of the park came by

as he always seemed to do about this time.

Yet dusk arrived early today,

or was it only the clouds that

blocked the sunlight from my eyes,

the same sun we shared often

but never enough.

But there was never enough time and

perhaps that is why I’m alone now,

alone, watching the old man,

the funny old man of the park

you called him,

as we sat and watched him

and the people

and the pigeons,

and the buildings melted into the sky

as we walked through

the thoughts we shared

and the love that grew like

the trees in the park,

the park where we sat

and met

and talked

and loved

and watched the old man,

the poor old man of the park.

And now it’s dark and I’m alone

and the old man is gone.

No, he didn’t come today

as he always did before.

Now he is gone

and so are you.

                                    Broomall, PA

                                    October, 1970