Dreams of Helen

Alone in his dark apartment
black dog asleep
the sound of children playing
in the street outside his window-
children of color, his housekeeper says,
not quite seeing the distinction
only hearing happy voices-
an old jazz number on the radio
as he stands and dances slowly
with his cane tap, tap, tapping
to the beat and dreaming of a girl
he once read about named Helen
in a book of braille. 

6/6/14

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

"There is a blind man here with a brow
As big and white as a cloud
And all we fiddlers, from highest to lowest
Writers of music and tellers of stories,
Sit at his feet,
And here him sing of the fall of Troy."

Edgar Lee Masters, "Blind Jack"

This is Masters for our time, and I don't make it a habit of thorwing out comparisons to Masters lightly.

[Rick r]

Well...thank you is about all I can muster, Wk.
rick

[Tree]

As another writer once told me here, (kortas, I'm referring to you ... ): It's a good idea, to follow other good writers to see who they read.

This was a poignant, melancholic blue-gem; A memory keeper... A sad, beautiful song.

Excellent piece

[Rick r]

Thank you, Diego. I appreciate your comment.