Sunday, 17 August 2008

Pink Hatted Peon

A pink hat, a neon sign
that this man, although of peasant line,
is of now.
and yet somehow

that face, those lines,
speaks of the older times:
times when the men
would go and only return when

the baskets would brim
and the children would grin
the church bells ringing
the choirs loud singing.

he takes off the pink hat, places it on the ground
for a second the air is still; no sound
he thinks of how things used to be
and, bareheaded, sleeps beneath the tree.

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