A man once took a walk down
a long road.
He was an old man.
Yet he walked like a child.
He stared at each crack in the road,
marveled at the sun and would whistle
at the clouds.
He wore a black suit and
sang a raspy song.
He carried a briefcase,
in it only poems.
When he got to the end of the road-
The sun was beginning to set.
The wind was cold, yet he was
warm.
Not a broken man-
He still marveled at the moon,
and whistled with the clouds-
in his briefcase,
only poems.
Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.
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