THE VISITOR

I used to be afraid of that
Place where congregated my view of
Flaunters, weakness, and takers.

Their winks and signs would taint me
And it all I’d abhorred seeking
Another of similar feelings.

But I visited it yesterday and left
Instead with tears upon my face,
And cried for the disgrace
Of those who sought for dreams
Of another era and youth
Of an olden day stifled in memories.

I wept for the dimness of responsibility
In action, propelled toward stature;
The loss of truth in a masquerade
Of beauty-ridden things.

So now with that tenderness of a
Mother’s love for her disgrace-child,
I look upon that place and its young,
oh so young,
visitors.