Cicerone Poem by David Bayless

Eyes that invite with a smile
His greeting humbly despised
'Why have you come? '
Gratitude not an expectation
At his feet many a man long for his absence
Confidence bleeds away like the letting of a medieval disease
Have you oh wise man your conviction?
Fearlessness only enters with the last breath of a tormented soul
Peace, contentment; the whiskey burns the throat
If he greets and refuses your toll, your next encounter is paid in full
Masked in fearless robes those who shiver not lie to those who have come before
Inevitibility lifes woesome foe; friends of a hand once shook before
The oceans will fill once more; again his hand will knock at your door