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
