Masks by T.J. Cheverie

We all wear them,
Everyday,
In our places of business,
And in our homes when we are
Alone.
Some wear the mask of the Prince
and others wear the mask of the Prophet.
There are ones that are quite beautiful;
Others that are not-so-much.
Handmaidens wear a mask of Servitude,
and soldiers the one of War.
my father wore one that was blue,
and covered with the markings of
a life of hard work and long hours;
through which he put a roof over our heads
and food on our table.
my mother wore a Death mask
when she was only 49-years-old,
and shopping one day at our
local grocery store.
Me, I wear the mask of the Poet,
Through which I make observations
And then record my thoughts and feelings.