31 maart 2010 - 21:40

AL

297

0

In that forgotten part of town,
Where wasted hopes and dreams abound
A wrinkled man with live near end,
In hopes to have at least one friend
Fashioned bits of wood and things,
And made a dummy run by strings

He sat alone for hours on end,
Conversing with his only friend
And found delight within the fact,
That he controlled it's every act
He told him how he never had,
A friend since all his luck was bad
And though the tried so to succeed -
The dummy nodded, and agreed

Senility increased with time,
As did the old man's pantomime
And feverish fingers pulled with glee,
The dummy's dance of misery
They never left each other's side,
Until the day both stopped and died
We found them lying hand in hand,
The dummy, and his wooden friend.

© Michael Mack
[Staat ook op Q [: ]