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He Read Me A
Poem
He
read me a poem,
just a short
poem from a book of poems
by someone or
other
whom I was not
acquainted with,
but apparently
he was enchanted by.
It was
a good poem but I wasn’t moved,
the
earth never quaked,
but
then he looked up from the book
and
his face was aglow,
isn’t
that beautiful, he said,
and
with some effort
he
managed to hold back the tears.
His
emotion brought a lump to my throat.
Unable
to speak, I nodded.
~Esmond
Jones~
Copyright Esmond Jones
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