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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2199834
Throughout my childhood was this old man on the corner playing every day, then he died.
I met a man who sang the blues
He told me he had happy news
It was time for him to go today
Confused I stood and asked him why
He thought it was his time do die?
But he just smiled at me and wouldn't say.

He picked up his guitar and strummed
His fingers quick, the words he hummed
Like he'd done for all my childhood days
I knew that I would miss this man
That I'd probably never understand
Sadly I turned around and walked away

All I could think was that it was wrong
That the old man could leave and take his song
And I'd never again get to hear him play
He came to see me late that night
Told me all would be alright
We buried him in the evening of the next day

G. Gabriel
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2199834