The Fool On The Hill Poem by Phil Soar

The Fool On The Hill



He sits astride an Ancient stone
The fool upon the hill
His attire a mix of well worn rags
That keep him warmer still
As storms and gales and powerful winds
Surrounds his broken home
He looks down at the sodden ground
His footprints deep in snow
And yet he cares so little for
The world that he has shared this with
He sits surveying all around
And know he's chosen how to live
And nothing ever bothers him
He sits astride an ancient stone
And all he hears above his head
Is the sound of alien robot drone

Thursday, February 12, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: Life
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