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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2222027
Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2222027
Even those wearing shrouds wear masks.
When he came in the store he was wearing a shroud
and upon his appearance the people were cowed.
I had thoughts of Grim Reaper when eyeing him so,
but I felt that was childish and not apropos.

(In my mind I saw bones but that was not the case;
  as the man in the shroud in the store walked apace.
  There was hint of a forehead reflecting store light
  of this mystery man with his face out of sight.)

A mysterious stranger with shroud caught the eye
of myself and of those that he happened on by.
As he strode to the produce, those cowed stirred about,
and like me they were probably wanting to shout.

Shroud Man carried a hand basket close to his side
as he went down the aisle in powderpuff stride.
I saw manager Jim widen emerald eyes
as he looked at the stranger in real time surprise.

I was curious cat in this odd state of be;
someone shrouded sans face was a big mystery.
So I moved with dispatch to the end of the aisle
to espy this man’s face and perhaps lend a smile.

Well, a stark revelation was poignant and proud
when the mystery man slipped the hood of his shroud.
Karen, working the deli, in thin sliced deadpan
winked at me as she uttered, “Who was that masked man?”


24 Lines
(Anapestic Tetrameter)
Writer’s Cramp Co-Winner
5-16-20
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2222027