A WOODY SMILE

I visualize sometimes, the Woodfork smile,
Somewhat akin to a Mona Lisa grin,
And wish that I could rest awhile,
On a park bench sitting alongside him.
Where the shadows on the close cut grass,
Stretch out from marble soldiers grand,
Frozen in action to show their class,
Touched often by this good man's hand.
Perhaps they'd feel the radiant pride,
That swells the heart inside his chest
And note the confidence in his stride,
As he moves with dignity from his rest,
Passed the magnificence of their form,
Humble in their shadows across the lawn.

©Copyright January 17, 2007 by Colin F. Jones

For Thurman P. 'Woody' Woodfork