just a two-bit guitar pickin' poet
walking barefoot in dew damp grass;
the fire still shining in eyes
that have seen it all,
and then some....
nothing in his pockets....
grey hair falling 'neath his hat,
bathed in the morning sun;
a half smile on his hardened jaw...
going out to meet the devil,
or the Lord, tomorrow or infinity,
with a song and a dream
still intact.... and a heart
whose door opens both ways...
leaving the past behind!
Eric Cockrell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leaving-the-past-behind-2/
