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My Old Red Skin

Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. 23-years of writing for a newspaper has served him well.


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

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