The old man and the sea

There was a man living on the edge of a cliff by the sea
he was old, old as one could be
his hair was grey
and like a tree bent by wind, he walked up and down the hill
with a stick, almost as gnarled as his face was rugged

As leaves in the wind, the small house blows back and forth
along with the roaring waves down at the steep depths
but he's so close to the end
the sky takes over

At nights he lights a petrol lamp and tells stories to himself
makes up far away lands, talks to all the different people he meets
their flickering shadows against wooden walls,
chasing the pencil drawings of their foreign faces
watching him from their frames,
when he sits and looks upon the darkening sky from his desk
distant tales
as the sky takes over




Poetry by Angie-M
Read 680 times
Written on 2010-02-22 at 23:41

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