The Glory Trumpeter Comments
Old Eddie's face, wrinkled with river lights,
Looked like a Mississippi man's. The eyes,
Derisive and avuncular at once,
Swivelling, fixed me. They'd seen
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lovely! could you read and comment on my poems too? thank you.
All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for the daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere Their tears are filling up their glasses No expression
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8/3/2025 3:57:21 AM # 1.0.0
A haunting portrayal of a time long gone, in despair, yet swilling hope.