- Old Man -
Old Man
As a story this is told
In the ice freezing cold
Without hair, nearly bald
This aged man, very old
Within his hands,
He something holds
On some hay, he falls asleep
In a dream, very very deep
Heart-Breaking for here he weeps
As he passes away,
An awful feeling to us creeps
For in his hands he still sth keeps
We wonder what in his hands he holds
As it opens,
The weakening of his grip
Out his hands sth rolled
Sth so delighting, not to be sold
Sth so precious, as precious as gold
'n So the truth here unfolds
In his hands a life he holds
- Geinspireerd door een verhaal ergens gelezen -
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| Auteur: *~ Mzz MpL ~* | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: Frummel | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 28 september 2002 | ||
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