Where does wisdom comes from . . .
I once knew an old man
with great wisdom. . .
His eyes had a glimmering light
and when he looked at me . . .
it was just that he looked
right thru me. . .
Every Sunday he sat in front of
he’s old radio from the thirties
and listens to classical music
one of his favourite was Chopin
and Mozart. . .
He was my best friend when
I was a young boy . . .
it was my granddad
and his name was Ernst
He died 97 years old
and had a long life behind him
He was one of the best boat builders
a real master with wood
He often told me that the end is not the goal
it’s the journey . . .
That makes the goal vulnerable!
Poetry by Dan Cederholm
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Written on 2007-10-09 at 23:55
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Kathy Lockhart |
ken d williams |