The Squire
I knew a man who always traveled,
he worked hard and was ever on the go.
He said that he would like to own property,
a Squire or Country Gentleman, as you may know.
I could not believe it,
as one day he came with cash in hand.
He said he wanted to get away to quiet,
but all he wanted was the land.
I thought it strange that he do this,
as he never liked staying in one place.
He said he still wanted to travel,
but would use this for his base.
I wondered why the big One-Eighty,
for he turned completely around.
He said it was just a change of direction,
one he had never before found.
I hoped that it would settle him,
because he was strange enough.
He said that if I did not want his money,
that he just leave and take all of his stuff.
I wanted him to know my feelings,
about how his life would change.
He said that I was not to worry,
he was not going to join a Monastic Grange.
I sold him the property he wanted,
and put the money in several banks.
He did not have very much to say,
but just gave me a word or two of thanks.
I wandered by there the other day,
not trying to raise any alarm.
The place was run down, unkempt, and shoddy,
apparently...he "bought the farm".
Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment