04/24/2020
An old Dutchman
Sat and scribbled
In a shack,
In his village.
He smiled warmly
Remembering
His grandchild,
The glow of youth.
A young man came in,
Drunken and alone.
He stumbled in
From Amsterdam
His clothes were
Tattered but new,
As though he walked
a very long way.
The Old Dutchman
Raised his brow
“Who goes there?”
It was dark.
The young drunken man
Wept and wept.
He was from the Amsterdam,
He was alone.