Coarse his voice, manner gruff, carriage haughty,

Hands decade’s toil worn, cut, broken.

Dues overpaid yet sought no refund,

Accolades hard-earned never came,

And ’twas when no more he spoke

Then canard’s fodder, they would not mourn.



6 Replies to “Thanks”

  1. Some people do have that crazy hard life, but I would have mourned for him if I’d known him. Reading something like this makes me mourn a little for all those who got less mourning than they desrved.

  2. Oh, wow. I love the way you wrote this. The lack of verbs really gives is this cool punch, as if it’s somehow raw yet sophisticated at the same time. Great piece. ^-^

    – Nick @ Whispers

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