Raggles (with a debt to O. Henry)

Friend Raggles was a poet,
But sure he did not know it;
He lived every line he never wrote.
No lyric passed his tongue,
No verses there were sung,
But everything he did was one great quote.

He loved the city’s life,
Its ardor and its strife,
And walked Fifth Avenue with head held high.
The stone and glass that soared,
The sounds that round him roared,
Brought magic to his lofty ear and eye.

His too big shoes were worn,
His too small jacket torn,
And yet his crumpled hat slant up in style.
No money to his name,
He strode like he had fame;
Threw every fur-lined lass his one-tooth smile.

When finding lonely dime
He’d fondle it sublime—
Rich payment for his quick-step on cement.
And when a light was red
He marched on straight ahead—
A marshal of parade magnificent!

By doors of Tiffany’s
He’d never cough or sneeze,
But saunter slow and easy, as at home.
On jewels that twinkled there
He stared with loving care,
As if each pretty thing was his alone.

Past solid doors of banks
He’d doff his hat in thanks
For all his gold kept safe from thieving harm.
Soul’s millionaire supreme,
He loved the high glass dream
That flashed down haughty winks of regal charm.

In burst of sudden rain
Every awning he’d disdain,
And laugh with elder ladies in delight.
When cabs too near did pass
He stepped out to take the splash,
That none of them should leap-squeak in affright.

He patted lions’ feet
With sculpting more complete,
And drew a line of pigeons to a crumb.
His masterpiece was this:
A moment’s quiet bliss
While sitting in the city in the sun.

He gave the town true tips—
Sweet smiles upon his lips,
And shining eyes that penned a gallant quote.
For, though he did not know it,
Friend Raggles was a poet
Who lived every line he never wrote.

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1 Response to Raggles (with a debt to O. Henry)

  1. Hank leftwichwichn says:

    I love this, Brian, and Friend Raggles too!!

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