As I was waiting for my son to get off from work, (He's the biscuit maker at Tudor's Biscuit World), I struck up a conversation with an older gentleman, who was in his late 80's or early 90's. He started reminiscing about his childhood, and all the jobs he had throughout his life. He even played in a country band, playing country, gospel, and even bluegrass. We must have talk over an hour. I say all of this, because one of the simple pleasure in life is being able to sit down with an older person and hear them reminiscing over their life.
One of the things that I like to do is to write poetry. Years ago, I wrote this...
Can you see the old man laying by death's door,
Wrinkled by time and the pain that he bored.
And if you look closely, you'll see tears
in his eyes.
He just another old man the world is passing by.
And what about his family?
I guess that they have other plans,
Who really have the time
To visit an old man?
So he just lays there,
His heart is broken in two.
And someday my brother,
That will be me and you.
Then we will know,
Know what loneliness
Is all about,
And by going through
Death's door
Will be the only way out.
Do we see the old man,
See the tears in his eyes,
Or are we part of the crowd
That only pass him by?
Now who would throw away
His treasures,
His treasures of silver and gold,
But do we not the same,
My brother, when we forget
About the old?
Do we not the same my brother,
When we forget about the old?
PepperJack
One of the things that I like to do is to write poetry. Years ago, I wrote this...
Can you see the old man laying by death's door,
Wrinkled by time and the pain that he bored.
And if you look closely, you'll see tears
in his eyes.
He just another old man the world is passing by.
And what about his family?
I guess that they have other plans,
Who really have the time
To visit an old man?
So he just lays there,
His heart is broken in two.
And someday my brother,
That will be me and you.
Then we will know,
Know what loneliness
Is all about,
And by going through
Death's door
Will be the only way out.
Do we see the old man,
See the tears in his eyes,
Or are we part of the crowd
That only pass him by?
Now who would throw away
His treasures,
His treasures of silver and gold,
But do we not the same,
My brother, when we forget
About the old?
Do we not the same my brother,
When we forget about the old?
PepperJack
