The Man
THE MAN
The old man with the bulbous nose
ignores people wherever he goes
he kicks at stones with his big feet
uncaring about who he may meet
on and on he stomps and mutters
always searching in the gutters
clothes now torn with tatters
one can see to him it no longer matters
once he had a job in the mine
and lived on good food and a glass of wine
then he lost the only one who cared
and with who is life he shared
A little stray dog she may have been
but their friendship was a joy to be seen
each day at shifts end
she would be waiting at the gate for her friend
on days when he was home
over the hills close by they would roam
ten years have passed since the day she died
now he has no-one to walk at his side
so on and on he stomps and mutters
kicking stones and tins in the gutters.
beejaz
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