Specters dance across the glass

As the old man grabs his gear

The morning sun shines down on him

Melting away years

 

He takes the boat down to the shore

And pauses just a bit

To enjoy the roaring silence

Before his presence shatters it

 

The shakedown cruise of his new boat

Right at the break of day

If the end must come he wouldn’t want it

Any other way

 

But life had other plans for him

He must be broken first

The paddle shaft fell from his hands

As his fingers swell and twist

 

This inconvenience slowed him down

The pills could dull the pain

His canoe still split the mirror

Till a blood clot hit his brain

 

All he could do is sit and watch

While others set the pace

So much work to tell the tale

Of how he won the race

 

The end did not come soon enough

I saw it in his eyes

But when it did his next design

Was a Jensen that can fly

 

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Newest article on Gene here:

http://editiondigital.net/publication/?i=121188&p=22

 

 

 

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