Old Man

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By Mad Rhetoric

There is an old man,
leather skin, rings of centuries beneath his eyes,
he sings a praise to those in passing,
as our ritual, i offer coins for a blessing,
a metallic ring, he turns his gaze on me,
“Bless you son,”
walk the straight and narrow,
my father has given me a blessing,
I whisper my prayer,
we sigh together,
Amen
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