I Just like this Poem I just read on FB...here it is to you from me... Peter Forster (c) Daily missive breaks into the weekend again Sunday the 15th of September It was the wind that got to him. Lashing the rain into his face, lancing the skin, forcing him to close his eyes and seek shelter from the storm beneath a shallow over hang. It was so cold his ears rang and the water seeped in through the holes in his old coat, even though he held it tight and fastened it with the string he kept wrapped around his waist. It came in handy for setting traps, rabbits and pigeon on a good day even hedgehog baked in clay. But he couldn’t stay where he was, he knew that they would find him. Stealing was a crime, even though he only took what was owing. They paid him all he was worth but less than they said and his worth was all in his head. Handymen were two a penny. If he knew what was good for him he would get himself off, before they set the dogs on him. So he had stolen a chicken rung its neck, by heck. Plucked and cleaned it in the beck and now it hung beneath his coat, He so needed to find a place, out of the rain. Where he could cook his roast be as warm as toast and as safe as houses but still the rain came down and he was nothing but a sad old clown with nowhere to go and nobody was laughing
Posted on: Sun, 15 Sep 2013 22:28:20 +0000
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