The Old Man

At first it was jib
and then it was jab
a plain older fellow
in perfect red plaid

For all of his life
Since the day of his birth
He always felt anger
but never felt mirth

So on this one occasion
with the help of his group
He had lofty expectations
in a long mental loop

Like a bird in a jungle
so wild and set free
this man’s world came together
and that man is just me

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

life, birth, occasion

8 thoughts on “The Old Man

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