On the Go
You can’t bury him yet
The wise old owl well fed
Eyes keen, a healthy spleen
A wrinkled face shows a has-been
But not so fast
Old hickory not passed
But vigilant and wise
Wisdom his greatest prize
He saunters slowly like a snail
His stories, jokes are all old mail
His humor, full of jest
Tall tales believed are just the best
He loves his kids
And grandkids in the midst
Penuriously slaved
Years of elements braved
He’s yearned it, earned it
While life has taught him quite a bit
So when you pass him say “hello”
Not finished yet, his life is on the go
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