There was an old man called OR
who wondered  what  living was for.
It’s joy and its pain —
its sunshine and rain
became themes of his writing galore.

He still hasn’t figured it out —
doesn’t know what life’s all about.
But he strives to describe it
in  pieces and bits
as he smiles, but sometimes he pouts.

The world doesn’t know of his writing
but a  few folks he is inviting
to look at his stuff
‘til they’ve had enough
and then they’ll cease their imbibing.

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