John Henry Poem by T.L. Toadvine
John Henry
He was a crusty ol' son of a gun
Didn't really love his fans
Preferred being left alone
But there was a determination
In his solitude
A dignity
And you granted him his space
Friday, September 13, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: solitude,son
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8/28/2026 9:54:41 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
