Picture courtesy of http://www.dreamstime.com The old man drifts on through
noticed by far too few
Lost his way so long ago
his health, his mind did he blow
His clothes dirty, he shuffles past
as people avert their eyes, downcast
Not wishing to know his life
they couldn’t care if he lived or died
Excuses are made, lost are we
our goodwill gone with belief
But does anyone know what’s in his head?
if only they would listen to his words said
But alone he always seems to be
his rubber face people don’t wish to see
But the eye that disturbs them so
they look so far apart from us, lost in long ago
Does he have family who visit his home?
or does he sit there all quiet and alone?
So many out there that live like this
that you wonder if they’re ever missed?
And so he staggers on by as always
as he does every single day
Avoided by many, a nod by a few
this man lost to me and you…
I'm a thinker, listener, a "question's pretty much everything" type of person. A seeker of knowledge, always restless, yet seeks the calm in life.
I love writing in all forms and am in the process of completing a number of ongoing projects. I love the craft of writing and the possibilities it holds. A magic carpet through the mind. I love pretty much all creative arts, music, film and theatre the leading ones.
Born in Hertfordshire in England, my family Irish, Welsh and English, I currently reside in Edinburgh, in Scotland. I'm drawn to coastal and mountain regions where I like to go to think and draw inspiration from. Ireland is a place that's dear to me, and I try to get back to see family and friends as much as possible.
My interests are wide and broad, too many to mention here, but history, archaeology, criminology, music and film are just some of those things I love.
I hope you enjoy my ramblings on here as that's what they are really. I'll let my fingers do the ''talking...''
View all posts by Darren Greenidge
Caliburnus Rises 