Man wore the placard like a sandwich
He being the cheese
On the placard he had the words
He walk the town, daily, bearing his placard
Some times we'd talk, he were harmless
I with others sold a socialist paper, the others, paid the man no account
I found that he were, well, not a religious '' nut '', so on the face of it
We had nothing in common
We talked, listened, to each other, with respect always
Each had their believes, philosophy's, of life
Neather I nor the Placard Man, attempted to convert the other!
Whil sold our papers, he wore his placard, we talked with each other
When we met outside Woollys - Woolworth's, on Statuary, mornings

Then on day I saw him sat on bench, his placard
Now resting beside him, her were crying
I sat down beside him: '' Whats wrong, old friend; '' by now we were indeed friends

'' I'm sad, I am crying, looks like, we, you and I, are going to be both proved right ''
Then I began to cry

ken d williams

The Dyslexic Wordsmith

Poetry by ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 134 times
Written on 2017-10-14 at 12:16

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
This is very good. I remember seeing these similar men carrying their placards about the end of the world and they always frightened me as a child. Now, it's all too true to carry a placard. The time is here and now. Now I carry the placard with my words. The End is Near. No planet in the Universe can sustain the amount of CO2 we are pouring into ours. What foolish creatures we have been~