There he was
On the corner of Sweet Jesus.
Hand gestures weaving meanings
Expressing the need for love
For every living soul world wide.
While performing his story
The purity of his white gloves, never lied.
Frailties of loves braid,
He walked away, as he stayed, and stayed
True pantomime on parade,
Describing decisions, that love will often make.
His fingertips made the stars appear
The way love lights up a room,
He climbed a rope to the light on the moon
He climbed without any fear.
I wanted to go with him
Even though we were both still here,
Maybe it was the light in his eyes
Maybe it was the sight of his tear?
Running in place, visual emotional rhyme
He touched his watch, then sprinkled time
Around the world, pantomimed.
Within that very crucial message
He reached out with triage in his hand
At that very decisive moment, pantomime died.
Muffling my heart beats, I understood, and cried.
Only in place, with a tear on his face, he ran and ran
Just to tell the world, we are running out of time.
See more poems by Myth
View this poem
Comment on this poem