POEM: The testator


My father was a lowly man in the village, he was
A shepherd; he looked after a rancher’s cattle
for a living, he fed them well for many years
yet he never had even pigeon on his name

An ordinary man who spent every penny
he earned to raise his children, today we sat
around the table listening to the testator

In his legal will he states, that
I shall only inherit his greyish winter coat
and his blue leather shoes
They are both old and worn
and this is how my father spent his life.
His best and worst days were grey and blue
And I’m afraid to dress in my father’s tears

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