A Thistle

Odd man out He cuts a lonely figure Only he isn’t. Avoided learning the language where he lives To avoid tittle-tattle. He is a failed poet too. Rancorous and silent But does smile and say thank you a thousand times As is the norm in this country. He wishes he could eat as much as he wanted to But is constricted by diabetes And a wonky heart. He is often cranky. Waits to set sail to the Saragossa island He sends poems to a publisher, who answer but want money He has published a few books Which makes him feel like a fraud His last wish is to be accepted by someone who will publish him Not telling him he is terrific than asking for cash. He finds facebook too nice Likes the twitter where the truth is often spoken And no one reads his work.