He Was The Man Of The Town

He was the man of the town

Who made ladies swoon

They way he’d wear his crown.

For he was no buffoon.

One day he graced the cover

Of a top seller paper,

For being known as a lover

In his unknown caper.

Defying all misgivings of taste

Running across the street,

Towards a woman making haste

To avoid the ways he’d greet.

He tossed his hat in mid air,

Making people stop and stare.

How the rain unfolded the day

Upon the porch when she sat

And made her hair fray

When her boy was up to bat.

Her husband was always a friend

To those who’d stop for a chat

When coming round the bend

To join him in his flat.

For their cries for him were grazin,

Because his wife would take flight

When he was not so amazing,

During his lack of light.

Galloping through the golden field

His heart was would never yield.

Matilda knew he was a louse

But she did not care,

To her, he was a pet mouse

Who never stopped to stare.

She ran upon the hills

To see her calling bird.

Upon reaching him, he was still

And never said a word.

Her heart fluttered with sorrow

For the lack of her friend

Who’d sit upon the morrow

with no temperament to bend.

Her days grew colder

As she grew older.

In the distant hours

Her heart bled out the sky

In the waves of her dowers

She would sit and cry.

Spring brought out rebirth

In the land she learned to live

And play in the mirth

Of a child who taught her to give.

Sounding all tidings with grace

Her heart began to sing

To take delight of this place

Igniting a fire throughout her ring.

When the sun went down

She would often frown.

She’d stray from her husband’s grave

She’d pass on her way to church,

Because of the lulls her mother gave

When he sat upon his perch.

For he was now the bird

Who’s heart had became lame.

He never said a word,

Because her ill tidings were to blame.

Weeping in her pew

Inspired by words of her priest

For the husband she never knew

To say the least.

For she can now declare

How her heart could care.

Matilda’s son is now a student

Where his heart is playing.

For he has become imprudent

With the words he’s saying.

“Mother dear, you such a trout

For leading father to his grave.

Just sit there in drought

For all you never gave.”

He was now the bard

In the palace where he roamed;

Yet, his heart was scarred

By a father who never returned home.

Matilda could never constrain

Herself whenever he brought in the rain.

Her son brought out the best

In all whom he ever met

Because he passed the test

And won his father’s bet.

For he never enticed

His wails in the golden sky

When his mood was spiced

By his mother’s cry.

“Son, please return to my gate,

And mend my broken heart.

For it is not too late

For us to make a fresh start.”

On the road he traveled

And on and on he graveled.

©Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s