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The stationer boy

In the shadow of a murky building, in a street with an ugly appearance

and an unpleasant smell, without sun and without human warmth

for most of the day, a boy and a dog tend after their only

legal craft assigned to them by the world: survival.

The boy and the dog are not just one body and one soul,

but they are also, as the world believes, one voice.

This voice, which seems to be heard only on Christmas Eve,

comes from a shrill ghost which lies restless in its grave;

in that sad street, which never housed a single butterfly

in its whole existence, there was some kind of greedy

spider, that spun its web to prey on careless people.

Yet, the boy and the dog await each new day with humble

and reverent obedience, and they sell paper: regular, fine

concept, white, whitish-brown, golden-blue; stamps,

sprinkling sand, nails, pencils, red and green ribbons

for gift wrapping; old notebooks, calendars,

diaries. To cut a long story short, the boy and his dog

trade in good old values. They are invisible to the courts,

because, after all, who cares for the poor, as the wise would say.

This morning, however, the boy and his dog were not in their

usual place, the golden sundust floated on the soft, sweet back

of the wind, as if looking for the stationer boy and his dog.

And the boy was lamenting the death of his old dog, in the shadow,

as usual, far away from the eyes of the world, and these salty, silent

tears were looking for at least one short gaze of the world,

but the cold world considers the boy to be just a regular, modest,

humble, honorable, and thus invisible stationer.

He kneels next to his only friend, and with a broken voice

he bids him farewell for one last time:

“Good night, my only friend! Good night, my little

stationer! Sweet and blissful dreams!”

And so the stationer boy was once again left alone in that sad street.

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Submitted on November 10, 2016

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Walter William Safar Claim this poet

BIOGRAPHYWALTER WILLIAM SAFAR was born on August 6th 1958 in Sherman-Texas . He is the author of a number of a significant number of prose works and novels, including "Leaden fog", "Chastity on sale", "In the flames of passion", "The price of life", "Above the clouds", "The infernal circle", "The scream", "The Devil’s Architect”, "Queen Elizabeth II", as well as a book of poems.Many times, while escaping the real world, I used to find my sanctuary in the blissful chest of mother Art. With these poems, I am curing the hungry soul, and it hungers for compassion, love and faith, just like any human soul does.Hungry and thirsty, I am staring into the very heart of the dark spirit of my own subconscious, and I would feel betrayed for who knows how many times, only to appease my thirsty soul with a torrent of tears, because poetry is like a tear on the face of mankind.I don't know much about victories, but I am sure of one thing, that compassion is a victory of the human spirit. I wrote these Poems on an old typewriter, which I inherited from a late American writer. This wise, good man used to read poems to me when I was a kid, saying that I too will read my poems to other people, but first I shall roam the world searching for myself.I admit I no longer have the will or power to roam around, but I haven’t lost the will to write poetry. All I want is to share my poems with the whole world.THE CAPTAINImagination is the timeless sail of all words,And words only float without it,Like a windjammer without wind.Without imagination,There are no journeysInto unexplored worlds,Because the world is but a boundless ocean of desires. more…

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    "The stationer boy" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 4 Dec. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/87989/the-stationer-boy>.

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