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Elder

by Leonard M Hawkes

On the Oranjelaan
Across from the park
Near the Sumatraplein
You would speak to me.
The small, white grated
Basement windows
Marked your residence,
And I would witness
Your wasting away
In the damp and cold
Of a foreign winter.

Nameless then and
Nameless now, I know
The lonely suffering:
That sacrifice of youth
For an eternal cause
With its dull rejection.
No, surely you were
Loved--only slipped
Away--taken too soon
To the great reward--
Not just dead in Dordrecht.

01/06/2009

Author's Note: An old ghost from the mission field.

Posted on 01/07/2009
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 01/07/09 at 05:33 AM

Old ghosts almost always have the most interesting stories, it seems. Thanks for sharing this one with us.

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