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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1816062
Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #1816062
More than meets the eye.
Once I met a humble man
who I thought an also-ran.
Clothes were grimy, tattered, gray,
sore to sight in light of day.

On his face a long white beard;
thought of Claus when he appeared.
He was wide as he was tall
in the park or at the mall.

He possessed Volkswagen Bug
full of kites packed pretty snug.
So appeared this unkempt guy
who put kites into the sky.

He was dingy fireplug;
with the string he'd give a tug.
Though we never talked with him,
dark opinions sure did swim.

Then one day, I can confide,
his blue Wagen up and died;
I then offered him a ride--
good Samaritan applied.

Santa was my passenger;
passing judgments did occur.
But as I drove from the park,
I found light beneath the dark.

We conversed on many things;
vitamins and cosmic strings.
Politics and history...
he showed mind ability.

We arrived where he was from,
(and it was within a slum.)
But his house was neat and clean;
ambience in shades of green.

Yet to me his best device
was that he was very nice.
Gentle spirit, manner fine,
decent chap with his own line.

Once I met a humble man;
I thought thoughts that were offhand.
But I came to understand
clothes don’t always make the man.



[Rhythm: 7] (Lines: 40)
Writer’s Cramp
October 5, 2011

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1816062