so black and unable to see.

 a man tormented by time

sat on a bench next to me.

Vile was the smell of his breath

 as he mumbled soft and incoherently.

Yesterdays stain still fouled his pants,

 as a multitude of strangers passed

us by without even a glance.

No one seemed to care

About him or us that day

And I watched with intrigue

as he fumbled in his

pocket with odd urgency.

 My eye went to his gnarly old hand

that was digging by his waistband.

And with the interest of a child,

I watched his withered old hand

 as it dug into the pocket more vigorously

 and then the old man sighed with relief,

 a crooked smile came upon his face.

revealing dark and rotted teeth.

 Now my neck, I did crane,

 as the man with eyes so dark

 pulled from his pocket a silver chain.

 Attached to the base of this silver

was a locket of gold, the kind you have seen

 the kind you all know, one that may have held a picture

of a ghost from long ago

With his head bowed,

 on the locket he did pry.

And with a faint “ding ding”

the locket did open and began to sing.

 It dinged out a melody so soft, so sweet

One I was sure that my ear had never heard.

 And while the piece of silver and gold continued to sing,

a soft and sweet scent in the air began to cling.

 Suddenly I knew that something was there,

somewhere hovering in our midst very near.

 Now in my heart I knew this feeling and what it to be,

 for I had known it once before

 as a young man of twenty three.

That was the night of long ago

that beside my mothers bed I did sit.

 Holding her withered hand

 as she sang  those old hymns,

“ Surrender” and “ set me free”

 And when she closed her eyes

 for that last sweet time,

I knew in my heart that indeed,

 she had been truly set free.

And then soft sigh in my ear

 returned me to reality

 and I became aware

that the man with eyes of black

 was no longer there.

I now saw that tiny locket of gold

 now lay on the ground so cold,

 open and shining in the noon day sun.

 I saw a picture in the locket there, of a little girl

of a little girl about the age of one.

And slumped against the wall this also did I see.

 The man with eyes of dark,

 but black they were no more

for the moistness of his tears

had caused them to shine.

 As he lay without motion no more.

I knew that his soul had left for another shore.

 and now too, he was finally free.

 It was at that moment I knew

 the song that that little locket did ding.

I remember it now, all so well,

for it was one my mother used to sing.

 Such beautiful words and so special you see.

 It starts out like this and is called…

“Just a closer walk with thee,

 grant it Jesus is my plea”           

 
J. Allen Wilson © 2004