The old Man

November 8, 2016
By , Pittsfield, IL

It was a cold winter night,
There was frost in the air.
The trees couldn’t be
Anymore bare.

The wolves howl,
At the bright full moon.
The black cats roam
Through the empty streets.

All houses are dark.
All but one.
It stays lit,
As we take a peek inside.

Inside the house
Is a weary old man.
With skin like leather
And hands as cold as ice.

He sits in front of a blazing fire,
Reading the paper
Long expired.
It crunching under his stone hard grip.

He sees the part
Where a woman died,
Her two children too
Along beide her.

They sit in a tub,
The one upstairs.
Decaying and molded
But not even there.

He sits and he looks
At the crime he had made.
‘Cause the newspaper never lies.
He will never die.
He is as old as time,
As young as dirt.
As deaf as a rock,
As blind as a bat.

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