starched, ironed, and pressed
standing at attention
clothes clean and crisp
as the morning air
meticulous, combed, conditioned
a stream-lined athlete
hair in perfect alignment
racing across his scalp
polished, sturdy, and oiled
strapped in comfortable elegance
boots gave an authoritative air
enforcing his regal state
kind, wise, keen
matronly compassion
eyes holding each vision softly
perched upon his brow
firm, strong, yet yielding
a safe place from storms
arms open to embrace
allowing others entry
even, bright, and freely given
light to brighten the dark
a smile of hope
offering others happiness
he wore his facade with grace
stolen from better souls
dignity was the only weight
he could still carry
with any semblance of truth
it was all he had left
even if it was false
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem