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.