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Professor Gloom
Member Elite

since 2000-07-23

Posts 3082
of Depression

0 posted 2013-07-04 01:51 PM

Through years and years
Drinking bourbon instead of shedding tears,
Just a moment from a final cry,
He'd walk and walk,
No eyes saw him watching from dark,
They’d in innocence just go by;
Till the day the flames circled all around
He knew it from that child’s crying sound,
And he knew,
Rushing in the fool he’s always been
Flames upon his numb and drunken skin,
The people all did shout
As the child came flying out,
But they knew
As the building collapsed to the ground
In searching only ashes were found,
A final exchange did occur
An old drunk had switched for her,
But she knew,
Her years of living had had a cost,
Paid after through a window tossed,
Through years and years
She’d help others find smiles in their sorrows
To take a another step into tomorrow,
And she knew
He was always watching from the shadows.

Gloom
For Jimmy

OwlSA
Member Rara Avis

since 2005-11-07

Posts 9347
Durban, South Africa

1 posted 2013-07-05 03:51 AM

Sadly beautiful.

Owl

ebonygirl
Member Elite

since 2011-07-14

Posts 2000
California U.S.A

2 posted 2013-07-05 02:13 PM

Very touching, Prof. Gloom.
Enjoyed your poem,
Ms. E

Kit McCallum

Administrator

Member Laureate

since 2000-04-30

Posts 14774
Ontario, Canada

3 posted 2013-07-05 03:43 PM

This is a wonderful tale of purpose through a positive act of selflessness. I like to believe our guardian angels come in many forms. Very much enjoyed this Professor Gloom!

Best wishes,
/Kit

Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis

since 2007-09-16

Posts 9271
So. El Monte, California

4 posted 2013-07-05 05:44 PM

Very profound and touching, Professor.
Ida

crosscountry83
Member

since 2009-07-30

Posts 345

5 posted 2013-07-05 06:00 PM

Captivating throughout.

Professor Gloom
Member Elite

since 2000-07-23

Posts 3082
of Depression

6 posted 2013-07-06 02:15 PM

Thanks to all that took the time to read and respond.

Jimmy

I happened upon Jimmy sitting in an alley drinking from a bottle, he was sitting on a charred crate. I had been wandering as was my habit long ago, I believe it was the early eighties. Actually I often found him in that area, within a block or two, and eventually talked to him. Even bought him a pint, which he took from the bag and downed it immediately then thanked me. He had been a firefighter. Once a building had collapsed on him and his squad during a three alarmer and only he escaped. He never recovered from the lose. For reasons of my own I stopped wandering that area, not that I stopped wandering, just not around there. I read about the incident in the late eighties, but singular acts of heroism are not given much fanfare.
Recently I met the girl that was thrown out the window as I was visiting a friend in a nearby nursing home. She was a volunteer there.

Gloom

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