THE SIX O’CLOCKS

So prim and grim,

Everyone of them,

So very thin.

Dark seams

Of black or brown,

The Six O’Clocks

Lived on our street.

The Six O’Clocks,

Passed by our house

Each day, tall

Rigidly erect

Bringing instant gloom

Like a windblown cloud

Which briefly blocks the sun

Dimming the day

Chilling the soul.

Who could know

Or ever understand

Their solemnness?

They never smiled,

Never nodded to say hello

Never spoke to anyone

They met along the way.

The Six O’Clocks

An enigma

Of silent shadows

Staining our memories

With a question

Without answer.