Greenbrook Square

It was an ordinary stroll on a ordinary morning,
that my usual route took a curious turn,
The bareness of dogwood trees ushered a warning
of a trial ahead, of which I would endure.
In the axis of a concrete cross
near Greenbrook Square, I was soon to be caught.
On the northern end was a man in a suit.
On the eastern side was a man just the same.
On the western path was another man, too.
Three travelers with Bibles in hand.
Three men stood there on Greenbrook Square.
With a cocksure grin and a gleam in his eye,
the northernmost man beckoned me to his side.
“We're selling the good word on this special day.”
I said, “No thank you, sir, I haven't much pay.”
He said, “No need, son, ain't too hefty a price.”
“Just a couple of nothings and a clean pair of eyes.”
I looked to the east and I looked to the west.
I looked and I looked for to heed their behest.
I briefly looked backed- couldn't hide my surprise
at the fourth Bible salesman on the southernmost side.
So I gave them my nothings and I gave them my eyes
and I opened their book and I thumbed through a while.
When I reached my destination, the sun was so bright,
reflecting in my vision a fiery white light,
but I was blessed to have given my eyesight away.
In exchange for my nothings, I had surely been saved.
The trial adjourned with the death of my sight,
so I buried my eyes in my Bible that night.