I saw the man today,
Yet had nothing to say,
He seemed the same as ever,
Just older everyday.
Each day I greeted morn,
With his form upon the tide,
Years I saw him thus,
With his shaggy dog beside.
He loved that dog, I know,
As he whispered things to it,
Still the dog disobeyed his master,
For he stood when told to sit.
Once I saw them dancing,
An hour without fail,
Only when they stopped I concurred,
That they were chasing each other’s tail.
I hope I see them tomorrow,
And all days yet to rise,
For they give me deep solace,
Life’s sermon from the unwise.

I woke up today, ages ago,
Stood up for my prayer,
The day had dawned as usual,
But the man was not there.
I crossed the road in haste,
Feeling a crippling dread,
And stared with mute surprise,
At the empty makeshift bed.

I stand by my footpath,
The night has fallen down,
My feet hurting and sore,
From running all round the town.
Just when I wanted,
To calm my weary feet,
My dog whimpered softly,
Demanding his hard earned treat,
I laughed at his fallen face,
And leaned close upon his ear,
Saying with untamed glee,
Secret my do hear.
It was my mocking test,
I have passed and you did rightly fail,
I took you through the town,
Chasing your own tail.

Author: TheHumanAnvil

I find poetry as a gentle reminder, a medium to relay and dwell upon all things considerate people find inconsiderate. Poetry as an art is akin to a lamp or a magnifying glass. It trails volumes of meaning behind obscure, vague words. I have been writing for a time now, and intend to do so for the time to come. And hopefully, hopefully, hope that one day, someday, a person stumbling across this veil of words, find it alluring enough to shift aside the curtain and peer, into the eyes of the naked truth which sways with the wind of reason. If you have any thoughts, it would be my pleasure to know them, if you don't then it would be a pleasure to not. Be my guest. This feast of words is for you.

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