Hero On His Horse

Hero On His Horse
© Surazeus
2018 03 27

The statue of the long-dead noble warrior,
the hero on his horse with upraised sword,
rides among stars over the city park
every night while everyone lies asleep.
The woman working as a clerk in the bank,
who passes by the statue every noon
and pauses to gaze at his changeless face,
is his great-granddaughter, unknown to her.
Large gramophone in window of a store
plays Mamie Smith singing her Crazy Blues,
and her voice echoes among whispering trees
as engines of Model T Fords putter past.
The woman sings along, "There is a change
in the deep blue sea, but there aint no change
in me, for my love for that man will always be,
but now I got the crazy blues of love."
She thinks about one hundred years before
when he first arrived in this fertile valley
and built his mansion on the river shore
from which sprouted metropolitan sprawl.
He had helped General George Washington win
the Revolutionary War for Liberty,
and married the beautiful gold-haired daughter
of a French count who had helped fund the war.
They raised seven daughters with long gold hair
who wore frilly gowns when they danced at balls,
and all married judges, doctors, and bankers,
except the youngest who married a farmer.
She loved to ride horses along the river
to harvest apples and honey for hot pies,
and raised five daughters who loved to bake cakes
who all married farmers and carpenters.
Though the youngest daughter loved to explore
along the river where she studied trees,
and met the young boy who built river boats,
and they fished together under white clouds.
The woman gazing at the tall bronze statue
smiles to herself at childhood memories.
"My Ma and Pa still go fishing each week,
drifting slow with tides in the boat he built."
The statue of the hero on his horse
gazes solemnly at the deep blue sky
while she returns to the bank after lunch
to process money with a cheerful smile.