Treasure Island

Herbert Nehrlich

(04 October 1943 / Germany)

The Stockbroker


The ledge felt quite intrusive,
his bony legs and scrawny ass
had chosen just to sit a bit.
He was unsure, since 10 o'clock
when all results were flashed
upon the giant screen inside
his chances had been wiped.
Just be a man, he'd whisperd then
to no one but his shadow
but face it on two knowing legs
it seemed a thing of honour
and courage that had never lived
inside his brilliant mind
so he continued just to sit
until the crowd would tire
of craning lustful necks to him
and darkness would drift by.
He needed nothing but a quick
and final execution
the logic sat right next to him
the courage lay below.
He wondered briefly, would the gods
deny eternal life
acknowledge him as a lost soul
and countless thoughts traversed his mind
and cluttered his resolve
a soft breath wind came from the North
and wrapped him snug and tightly
it re-assured him, left no doubt
with grace he bowed his head
and tumbled down in his cocoon
just floating, in slow motion
until he reached new destinies
in welcome kiss of darkness.

Submitted: Saturday, March 26, 2005

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