Keith Robson Sr.
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The Man Who Drew Dreams With His Ebony Cane.
The day seemed to start in an old fashioned way
With arguments, laughter and children at play,
The only thing different and wholly unplanned
Was the man on the beach who drew dreams in the sand,
He looked different some way, as though not of this time
And his pen was a silver topped cane of life's rhyme,
That drew imaged cartouches and scrolls of the day
Yet the incoming tides washed them slowly away.
From pink dawn to deep twilight he wandered the shore
And he always found places that he could explore,
Where the gold parchment sand was untouched by ...