HP (08-07-1975 / Kansas)

Clothes And Armor

the clothes on her back were thick and full
layer upon layer of cotton and wool
many levels of protection to ward away
people from her past that should not stay
garments to grant her immunity from pain
to cloak her from hurt so her heart felt no strain
tube socks pulled up to her knees
to hide bruises from giving unheard pleas
long sleeve shirts to hide the burnt in scars
from lighters that blistered and cuban cigars
a hoodie pulled over head to keep out of sight
the pulled out patches of hair yanked too tight
thick denim jeans to pad the thighs
so his fingers could not wander, fidget, and pry
thick heavy maskara to cover her tears
wanting no one to see she held any fear
armor of patched and worn out clothes
to keep away all advancing foes
she curled up tightly under the bridge
softly her whimpers could be heard
on far off distant a ridge...
the clothes he wore were too large and worn
but they kept at bay the distant storm
he had coarse materials against his skin
to remind him of where he was and where he'd been
his shoes were laced up nice and firm
to carry him away to where his heart did yearn
the soles were slick from running miles
granting him safety from faces that never did smile
a pendant he wore around his neck
of a lovelier time he couldn't forget
when his mother lived before he was swept away
to a foster home beaten and left a stray
and now as he runs looking for others like he
he wears a towel as a cape for the hero to be
his knight's belt of glistening gold
is a worn leather strap and buckle from a father gone cold
a stick he swings gracefully in his arm
his sword almighty to lift others from harm
a trash can lid dented and gleaming
is his shield in the moonlight his glory is beaming
as he hears the cry from a distant bridge
standing unafraid on his ridge...
their clothing and armor have kept them safe
it brougth them safely to this place
under a bridge as she lies there in a ball
as a young boy runs up standing tall
she lifts her head to see his face
lonely and timid they slowly embrace
he tells her his story and she tells him
their faces are stoic yet slightly grim
she tells how her armor is his to share
he hands her his sword and shield to bear
we will stand together like knights of old
under that bridge..in the cold
two knights were donned..both brave and bold

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Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me

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