The Bindlestiff

Tags

death, grave yards, judgement, loss, peotry, sad

An empty paper bag blew across the derelict street,
the street lamps flickered,
as if unsure of whether to be on or off
in the dull dawn light.
A single soul appeared in the barren street.
The Bindlestiff they called him.

Curtains twitched, as mothers clasped
their children and waited
for the bindle stiff to pass.

A stoop figure, neither fat nor thin;
tall or short.
A budding beard adorned his wrinkled face
and a large woollen coat
hung over his left arm.
Slowly, he made his way
through the lifeless town.
The wind was threatening to blow off
his tatty flat cap but he pressed on.

Curtains twitched, as mothers clasped
their children and waited
for the bindle stiff to pass.

The graveyard gate creaked like
his joints as he ambled through it.
He followed the stone slab path beyond
the huge tombstones and ornate crypts,
until he arrived at the tiniest gravestone.

he knelt down and whispered:
“Hello Evelyn, you look lovely today”
he smiled as a tear fell
from his left eye, he pulled a
flower from the coat pocket
and laid it down by the grave.
“Happy Anniversary, Love
its 63 years today” he said
in a soft but sorrow filled voice.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, Dear”
He promised as he struggled
to his feet, and began to return home.

Curtains twitched, as mothers clasped
their children and waited
for the bindle stiff to pass.