Hair He Has
By birksy
Below you’ll find a rhyming poem, About the man who’s always running, I’ve never asked him where he’s going, I’ve never looked from where he’s coming. He’s always late, and always rushed, I never hear him say excuse me, The hair he has seems rarely brushed, The bag he holds bangs on his knee. I sometimes wonder where he’s going, What does he have to do right now, That keeps his life so swiftly blowing, And makes him faster than the crowd. But as I watch him run from sight, I always feel a pang of joy, That I’m the one who’s simple plight, Keeps my feet in slow employ. © on Jun 26 2001 10:17 PM PST, Simon Birks 0 • 10
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"Below you’ll find a rhyming poem,..."