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

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.