A Surreal Poem

His approach it was the most delicate
Smooth black velvet and trembling touch.
His frame it was frail and broken
And his name was inscribed in his step.
His lips cracked and his teeth turned to dust
As his wrinkled chin tried to surface a grin.
His voice quivered as he spoke these words
In a voice so soft it was barely heard.

©2009 Jonathan Appleseed