My Old Red Skin
I'm alone. All alone. A sight for joy to see
A traveler sees. A minstrel sings
The old red skin on the back of me.
A diner cooks and lunch bell dings.
I'm alone. I feel crippled. Not able to yell
I crawl slowly up this craggily rock
I think of food. I think of a lie to tell.
This old red skin and tongue I mock.
I'm alone. My friends are gone. None I see
Just me, this cold rock and little stream
No more family, blast it! Only me.
Just old red skin and a miserable dream.
© 2018 Kenneth Avery