Evening Star

The headlines are there in black and white,

On the billboard, by the kiosk,

Death, doubt and widespread despair.

Less jobs, no hope, car crash, house fire,

And more and more and more, all there

In black and white, whilst he just stands

And calls “Evening Star” to the passing world.

Now and then someone stops and buys

A newspaper from him, avoiding his eyes,

Not looking at him whilst fumbling with the change.

He is not a person to them, to anyone, except

Sometimes to himself. No, not a person,

Just an extension of the black and white

Proclamations

Of gloom, doom and despair.

For forty years he has stood each day,

Six days a week, but not Christmas Day,

And sold the paper to those who want to read

The headlines of doubts, dark days and 

Widespread despair.

And at the end of the day he wanders home alone,

And sits before a single bar of electric fire

Watches the news on the television, with

The headlines of death, doom and

Widespread despair. And later,

Walks slowly up the stairs to his lonely, cold bed.

And dreams dream after dream of

Death, doom, doubt, and dark despair.

(c) 2ndwitch (14/01/11)