The Quiet Man

The man next door
Was in his forties
And I was only thirteen.
We talked from time
To time, though
He was a quiet man.
A man of few words.
He didn't want to be
The center of attention.
A man with no ego,
A bachelor, never married.
A humble man,
Protector of the innocent.
At the park
He watched the children
Play and fed the birds.
He picked up other people's
Trash and put it in the bin.
He went to church regularly.
Gave tithes liberally and cheerfully.
He paid the widow's rent.
He was a nice man
Who didn't say much.
One day I finally got  
The courage to ask him  
Why he always carried a gun.
He bowed his head
For a second, then
Looked far off into the  
Distance and said,
"Because every once in while
You run across someone
Who just needs killing."