Old Man at the Plantation

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Each day I pedaled by

the old plantation man

But never really thought about him.

Who he was and where he went.

His sun ravaged skin

All leathered and worn,

Gentle eyes

reflecting ancient blue lakes

of knowledge and wonder.

Sharp white waves

erupted from

Crevices deeply etched

onto hardened skin

of life induced ridges.

Smoothing out as the man

Sputtered his last breath

five months later.

I set the photgraph down


tsss tssss




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