Monday, 28 May 2007
Monday, 7 May 2007
Thursday, 3 May 2007
THE SALESMAN
A salesman for forty years
and a raw deal at the end
but he's not bitter,
he just let it float away
like a bottle on the tide and
sometimes he's too quiet
and doesn't say that much,
his silence speaking stories I suppose
his lips could never get a hold of,
I catch him staring off his eyes painting
the horizon and even when he's
absent he is always there
in me, in my son, a voice upon the clouds I
hear now and again,
my Father.
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