So Long Ago, The Story Goes
On his porch he rocks,
hat pulled low,
covering wary eyes,
nervous tics,
he waits,
year after year
he waits,
day after day
he rocks,
people scurry by,
afraid to catch his eye,
afraid to catch the fear and pain
that linger there,
so long ago
the story goes,
a man came in the night
and took his wife,
leaving sadness, anger,
madness, guilt,
day after day
he rocks,
year after year
he waits,
on Halloween
he leaves the porch
and walks the town
from dusk ‘til dawn,
he calls her name,
‘My sweet Lorraine’
and cries with anguished pain,
his sweet Lorraine
will not return,
will never be again,
she never was
the story goes,
he never had a wife,
his madness comes from deep inside,
from all the woes of life,
year after year
he waits,
day after day
he rocks,
for the love he lost,
or never had,
so very,
very
sad.
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Emily Conyngham
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Comments
~R~
HUGGGGGGGGG
♥R
Thanks, Susie.
Hugs back to you Linda. Halloween poems often mix the sad with the scary. I'm glad you liked it.
Thanks, Blinddream.
heidibeth, your words are so kind and appreciated.
FusunA, I will enjoy that exceptional compliment even if the reminder to Poe is distant.