Poetry of John Shaw

      The Old Men


      An old man walks alone
      He might wander straight past his home
      And where will he be?
      Hopefully he'll be set free
      Could this old man be me?
      And if he walks past this home of his
      How long would it take before he realizes
      That the home he had is but a dream
      And that before he stops he will have seen
      One thousand homes just as fake
      With cats in the yard and leaves that need rake
      And after one thousand he might be strong
      He might have grown up and become a song
      For a song does flow from ear to ear
      Straight past your house both far and near
      And before the song returns to you
      You might hear one different
      Maybe two?
      For as one wanders far and long
      You become alone and hear these songs
      They twist and entwine down deep in your heart
      And before you're through you've made a new start
      And don't let them frighten you
      No don't you bother
      For they're just some old men
      that have walked a bit farther


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