The old man’s table

A old man came home from his walk

He put his walking stick on the table,

He put his glasses and phone on the table

He put there a glass of juice.

He put there the splash of the rain

The loud noise of the children in the school,

The loud noises of the fast cars.

On the table he put there his thoughts and his dreams

The death of his family he put on the table,

He put there his lunch and his dinner on the table.

Now thats what I call a table

It got stronger the more he put on,

Then he kept on pilling things on.


7 thoughts on “The old man’s table”

Leave a Reply to Rhuraidh Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *