Heart Of Stone** Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I take my satchel now,
my leather bag,
with all its pills
and potions,
needles
and the odds
and ends
that would instill
the needed confidence
when those occasions come,
and block my way,
please help,
they plead,
you must,
I see your leather bag,
your monocle
a suit of proper tweed,
and even dust
would never quite
conceal
just who you are.

Yet, I went on,
pushed hard
to make my way
into a future just for me.

It may have been
a touch of morbid fear,
or arrogance.
But I can tell you now,
it was the coldness
of a heart of stone.