They Call Me Fred
His weathered face gave away
how hard life might have been.
But as he spoke of stories old
he told each with a grin.
He seemed to me, a happy soul
his tone was soft and kind.
Unbothered by the little things,
a wisdom hard to find.
We sat and talked for quite some time
just drinking in the day.
When suddenly he looked as though
no longer could he stay.
He then stood up held out his hand,
we shook, and then he said;
"Please don't call me Mr. Jones,
my friends all call me Fred."
Written by,
Sheri Lynne Evans
February 11, 2020
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