The Flower has Died yesterday I seen Walt Whitman sitting on a park bench named homeless he had no paper or pen so I walked down to the corner store I bought him a pad and a pencil as I began to walk away he said no wait! do not leave without this as he hands me a piece of paper I was shaking I looked into his eyes and seen the pain of our society and country men I saw the wilderness he adored and the pain of trees on fire I saw a million men just like him I saw the crowds of suits walk by him with no quarter to give I watched our own people murder with a terror cut down one by one in a shopping mall or institute of learning our own children with blood on their faces I watched a small girl being chased through the streets by a madman an elephant with his face cut off a wolf crying in the night to a native American and as the tears fell like a heavy thud onto the dirty sidewalk he let go of my hand I opened the crumpled paper and it said thank you!find love and peace with yourself my friend © Edward W Cousins
Posted on: Thu, 13 Nov 2014 00:06:11 +0000
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