The Son of Man

(After The Son of Man by René Magritte)

I saw you, while all you could see was the forsaken apple.

Waiting in front of a brick wall,

gray as storm clouds.

Silence echoes louder than thunder.

You are impeccably dressed.

Gray overcoat, bright red tie, crisp white shirt, brown leather gloves.

And, of course, your black bowler hat.

They say that a hat tells a lot about a person.

An apple ripe for the picking

A face hidden from the world.

Lonely and separate from the masses,

like the sea from the land.

That is all I know about you.

A Son of Man.

Like many before you and more to come

Each a masterpiece.

Placed into this world

To be.

A fleeting moment

lives collide.

We keep moving on

to the next painting.