I’d known something was wrong, even before opening the door
to see this upstanding pillar of the establishment
politely take his hat in hand.
The formality of his stance,
buttons glistening in the rain
whose drops shivered goosebumps on my skin.
The uniform told its story before his words.
As, in the chill, my heart lagged a beat
beneath the night’s shroud
the world beyond slept on unawares.
© Sheila Ash, 2017
Posted 21st May 2017
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