One Old Farmer-With No Name
.
He was a maverick on a country lane
A bit peculiar, but not ashamed
He never said much to make us stare
But, quietly lived with a certain air
His story, kept private, known by a few
Not much to say, but he paid all his dues
We are the neighbors who lived down the lane
We heard all his stories again and again
He knew what the sun had intended to do
With curly white clouds, and why rims of blue
His talk of Nebraska, and horses and grain
Discussed all the crops, and the darn lack of rain
We had seen him many a sun-drenched day
Standing in the field with the horizon to gaze
Perhaps he dreamed of the prairie skies
With secret story and with knowing eyes
Lightly as leaves cling, the quick years clung
About his shoulders, till his songs were sung
Kept to himself for many a year
...but today, his story has ended here
There is left behind such sad disbelief...
Surprised, and unexpected,..immense is our grief
For what had begun eighty years ago
There is still so much we will never know
Who was the man who had no name?
He paid his dues, but no one knew
Exiled he was, but never his words
Words "fell to the soul...like a the morning dew
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Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011
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