While thumbing through the pages of his life
with memory’s fingers
he came across the time
when lightening struck so close to him
that he was briefly terrified.
Had he left his house just seconds sooner
he’d not be holding this pen now
nor would he offer to the world
his modest contributions.

Since then
he’s preached at least two thousand sermons —
made ten thousand pastoral calls —
married and buried several score.

He’s made at least two thousand boxes —
made ten thousand key rings —
exhibited and sold at many shows.

And now before the closure comes
he’s penned two thousand poems
and aims for three or four.
He’s still waiting for the final score.

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