With cracked old hands he wrote down
everything that entered his head
He wrote them all both smile and frown
with noble pen, that which he wed
He had things to say which no one knew
and I was well beyond infatuation
I worshipped the knowledge he let through
and he always met my expectation
That learned man wrote interesting things
about distant lands and seagulls
How to search the sky without the wings
of the albatross, or golden eagles
He wrote down ways to sharpen stone
with perfect resonance and skillful sound
and he knew although he lived alone
How to be the most perfect man around
The Old Poet quite simply astounded me
with wisdom that age must lend
but it surprised me most of all that he
seldom read the words he penned
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