they didn't wear a cape
they didn't have a symbol
their face wasn't plastered
in black and white
they were beyond and above
in a season of colors
the heroes noticed
they noticed in a slumber of sleep
in the dawn of the day
in the dead of winter
in the youth of spring
perhaps they were the victims
perhaps they were the quiet ones
nobody really knows
who the heroes really are
YOU ARE READING
strangers
Poetrywe are all strangers, are we not? [© 2014, silencieuse. All rights reserved]
