In Memory Of Him

Every eve at the eight-forty-five count,
He was to be seen at the cell door.
Like a faithful hound with his master,
His being there was a thing for sure.

He would turn looking up and down,
The cell block hall, with a great big smile.
Often waving at his friends in doorways,
Some would laugh and wave back for a while.

Over the years he had come to know,
There were twenty-eight men on the North end,
Eleven on the South, the other side,
Ah!  thirty-nine total, just as it had always been.

The guard would march by each cell door,
Like a mechanical soldier on the move.
Notepad and pen in hand each night,
Trusting and hoping each count to go smooth.

But this night something was very wrong,
Not with the count for it was alright.
But with the doors, for one had lost a man,
Eleven plus twenty-seven, made thirty-eight tonight.

Years had ticked by, fate had struck,
For the missing man, his fight was over.
He had won his true freedom at last,
No more counts for that old rover.

Injustice..was fast to convict him,
The courts were slow to clear the case.
Worry, stress, and time had won over,
The missing man had won his fate.

From that night on, no other man,
Stood smiling and waving as before.
But they all knew in their hearts,
That God's Mercy had delivered once more.