Poor Old Man Poem by Oatem Folk

Poor Old Man



The littered beach,
The broken spade,
Out of reach,
His fortune made

The golden hoard,
The matted hair
Going forward,
Now almost there

The public gaze
The only chance
What time erased,
Is now song and dance.

Oatem Folk
Sunday, October 14, 2012
poem poems beach dance hair
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Poems By Oatem Folk
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