Humble Feelings in a Courthouse
By David Smith March 20, 2015
A coldness in the courthouse, an emptiness to hear
Echoes break the silence, a reverence there to fear.
Police at the door; Prim and proper to come in.
Like walking through customs; in a courthouse to begin.
Upstairs the Posh rooms, Justice so and so on the door,
And the Justice Library, all the books that are in store.
O it is a coldness, and a poshness there to feel;
The superior court of justice, my humility becomes so real.
To walk the carpeted hallways. where decision makers’ judge,
Both sides of an argument, my insignificance feels like mud.
And that is a courthouse, with a respect that is real,
The gavel echoes in the courtroom, not much hope of an appeal.