unwelcomed back home
self-proclaimed prophet travels
by foot from town to town
preferring the company of commoners
freely imbibing at their
favorite places of nightly worship
passages freely flow by heart
finding favor with patrons
cheering and praising his warnings
vehemently believing
until the hour that the morning comes
signs of the times remain unchanged
he would oft repeat himself
drifting to the next town by moonlight
abstinent and confident
acceptance is but a stone’s throw away
may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved






holy moly mourning…great poem.
ah thank you Denise delighted you think so