Anachronism

Folder: 
Serious Poems

Dressed in flowing robes

he takes a promenade

Tipping his plumed head

respectfully

to those he meets

He smiles

He greets



His sword

stays in his scabbard

The other children

laugh and point



He is alone

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The increasing lack of respect among the young people gets to me sometimes. This poem is short, for a change.

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