Reading Time: < 1 minute

Poem

There is a little lightning in his eyes.
Iron at the mouth.
His brows ride neither too far up nor down.

He is splendid. With a place to stand.

Some glowing in the common blood.
Some specialness within.

Previous Poem
Of De Witt Williams On His Way To Lincoln Cemetery
Next Poem
One Wants A Teller In A Time Like This