Downhome Magazine

The Old Man

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On the road near a stage I passed an old man,
With rubber boots on and a cane in his hand.
Something special about him I couldn't deny,
His nod of hello and his twinkling eyes.

So I stopped and said, "Marnin'" and he turned with a smile,
And I asked, "Have you time to chat for a while?"
Then he chuckled and said, "Yes, I s'ppose that I do."
And we stood on the wharf and the time it just flew.

He talked about fishin' and sealin' and boats,
And being reared up on the milk of some goats,
Of the good times and bad of his life on the sea,
Of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren three.

His words they were simple, his stories complex,
The wisdom of living, mixed in with regrets.
Some memories had laughter, some nearly brought tears,
He missed his wife dearly, now gone for four years.

I thanked him sincerely for tales of his life,
For sharing the joys and the times he felt strife.
He winked and said softly, "Well, thank you as well,
For taking some time to yarn with me a spell."

Champney's Arm, Nl
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